The Valley of the Force
by Rdr2
Summary: A Jedi Knight crashlands on a forest world, where she meets a young girl and the ghosts of the Outbound Flight Project. COMPLETE
1. Valley of the Force, Ch 1

**_The Valley of the Force_**

_Timeline:_ 35 years after the Battle of Yavin

**Chapter One: Her Father's Daughter**

The Lower Woodlands were very dangerous. Little sunlight could penetrate through the canopy to the marshy forest floor, leaving the trees in perpetual darkness. Creatures great and small, many poisonous and all irascible, haunted the bile-colored greens. Their songs could be heard in the still air. It always smelled of decay and corruption in the Lower Woodlands.

But Eve welcomed all of it.

Here, strangely enough, she felt at peace. Aside from the chatter of the woodland denizens, the forest was quiet. No other human soul dared to tread the shadowed paths of the Lower Woodlands as Eve did. She made her way through the heavy flora as if they were not there. The bright flowers—which could exude a deadly spore capable of rotting a human's lungs in seconds—bent away as she passed. The vines—covered with sharp thorns that spilled muscle-decaying fluids—parted in homage to her.

Here, she was untouchable, for the Lower Woodlands did her bidding. But that was not the proper way to put it. Here, she was a friend.

Eve found the raptor lying on its side between the split trunk of a tree. It struggled wildly, its razor teeth snapping viciously. Claws backed with the strength to tear through bone with ease raked at the air, enfeebled and useless. Eve approached the predator with compassion, a soothing aura radiating from both her and her consoling words.

"Calm down, friend," she whispered into its ear, daring to brush a hand down its scaly neck. The raptor mewled and bit its jaws at her. But she did not flinch. Her strokes became firmer, but gentler, too. The beast settled down. "I'll just carry you out of there, all right?" She placed her hands beneath the frightened creature's neck and belly, carefully lifting it out of the trap and settling it beside the tree.

"There, now you're all better." The raptor licked her bare hand and then sprinted into the darkness. Eve wiped her hand on the skirt of her tunic and resumed her walk through the foreboding wood that she felt so comfortable in.

Thirst parched her throat, for her sojourn had lasted most of the day, from the early hours of dawn to the twilight of the afternoon. She came to a pool of water that she found over a month ago and sat by its edge. She filled a leather water-skin and took a long drink, letting the crisp liquid appease her burning throat. Then she splashed it over her sweat-drenched face, neck, and shoulders before refilling the skin.

The darkness of the Lower Woodlands grew darker. It would soon be night, and even audacious Eve knew better than to linger when the moon rose. When the stars appeared, the denizens of the forest were filled with a vile insanity that drove them to manslaughter—if any pitiable humans presented themselves. Their behavior was a mystery to Eve and to all who lived near the forest's edge, but they had long ago accepted it as the natural cycle of things.

Eve shouldered her water-skin—the only article she carried aside from a large belt pouch and a stout knife—and retraced her steps back to the edge of the woods. Waning orange-red light greeted her and caressed her face. The sun was just beginning its dip behind the far mountains. It would be full night by the time she reached the village.

Her return home was a much easier journey than tromping through the Lower Woodlands. The golden fields of wheat that sustained her people were pliable in ways that the forest never could be. Where the vines and flowers paid her homage, the grains were her subjects. They formed a path before her and she walked it willingly, knowing that home lay at the end.

Her estimations proved correct—the moon was high in the air and the candle lamps were aflame by the time she reached the mud and thatch houses that were her home. The sentry this night was an elderly fellow who looked more a farmer than a guardsman. She waved to him. "It is a cool night, Atroclos," she greeted heartily.

"Princess Eve," the old man said with a reverent nod of his head. He was too old to bow properly. "A pleasant evening it is, and a pleasant day before it. Not that you'd have seen it, by the looks of you. If I may say so, my lady, you're filthy!"

Eve laughed and tugged on the sleeve of her tunic. "That's what happens when you explore the Lower Woodlands, friend Atroclos."

"Ah, well, only you would have the courage to brave that foul wood, my lady." The old man spoke with a heavy measure of respect. "Speaking of things foul, you father is in a particularly bad spell this night. He has been worried sick for you all day. He does not approve of your treks, my lady."

She shrugged, unconcerned. "Papa's always disapproved, Atroclos. I will speak with him later."

"Well, I'd best be getting back to watching the fireflies. A good evening to you, Princess Eve."

"And a good one to you as well, Atroclos."

Eve left the old guard behind and strode into the village. With night in full force, there was little activity on the streets. It was a peaceful village no matter the time of day. She had heard tales of bandits and thieves in larger towns, but never once had she seen such maliciousness among her own people. Here, people worked together for the sake of helping each other. It showed in their wooden crafts, in their mud buildings, in the low stone wall that surrounded the village, in the windmills that pressed the grain into flour. It showed even in the simple wicker baskets that carried the grain to the mills, in the heavy bags that stored the flour, in the clay bakeries that turned the flour into bread. Their communal living was everywhere.

She saw it in the precocious child that ran up to her, crying out her name in welcome. The child had been taught the traditions and language of her people, the lore of the land, and the ways they lived by the forest runners, the hunters, the farmers, the potters and blacksmiths, the night watchmen like Atroclos, and every other person in the village. So Eve knelt and scooped the child up in her arms, whispering a quiet hello even as the child's mother came running up with apologies.

"Princess Eve," the mother said breathlessly, having run straight from her mud house. "Little A'yannah here heard you had gone into the woods again and vowed to stay awake to welcome you home. I'm sorry about the commotion."

Eve smiled warmly. "It's all right, Kaddas. I'm happy you came you to greet me, A'yannah, but its your bedtime now. Remember, harvest is tomorrow, and everyone needs to help. So you be a good girl and go get your sleep. You need to be strong and healthy for work."

The child bobbed her head in agreement. "All right, Princess Eve!" Eve watched the child and her mother walk back to their house. Then she pressed on through the empty streets, heading for her own house—the largest in the village.

It was a tall and proud tower, the only building made of stone aside from the windmills and the smithy. It was built on a spire of rock jutting up from the valley, where the Upper Woodlands became one with the Great Cliffs. Only a thin bridge of stone connected the tower to the village. Eve crossed that bridge and entered the tower, her footsteps echoing loudly.

"Ah, Eve," her father boomed in greeting as she entered his bedroom. He was a hale man despite his wintering years, garbed in a thick cloak made from the pelts of the predator cats that roamed the plains beyond the grain fields. A leather cap ornamented with bright beads adorned his hoary head. "Welcome home, daughter."

She knelt before him and took his wrinkled hand in hers and kissed it. "I'm home, Papa."

He seemed to sniff the air. He touched a spot on her tunic, a black stain made by the leavings of a rather large scavenger animal. "You went into the Lower Woodlands again," he said accusingly.

She lowered her head, but nodded all the same. She could never lie to her father, nor hold back anything from him. "I went searching for something, Papa," she explained.

"Did you find whatever it was you were looking for, daughter?"

"I think so." Her hand went to the large belt pouch tied to her waist. She drew forth a broken sword hilt. A hand-span's worth of blade remained fixed into its handle, broken clean. "I believe this to be the weapon of your father, Papa. You told me once that he died in the Lower Woodlands on an expedition for materials we could use to build a new windmill. His remains were never found, you said. I found them."

Her father's eyes closed as memory assailed him: happiness from his days of youth, sorrow at the loss of his parent, worry over his own flesh and blood running in the same hells that claimed his sire's life. Then he looked at his daughter, his lovely bright-eyed daughter, and looked at her with pride. He took the hilt from her hands. "This is indeed my father's sword. Is this why you've been going into the woods for the past month? Against my permission, no less?"

"It is, Papa."

He took her hand and pressed the hilt into it. "My days are closing, daughter. I was to inherit this blade, once. Now I pass it to you, for you will be the next ruler of the valley. Do you remember the story of the sword?"

She nodded solemnly. "When our village was founded, the original settlers of the valley were led by a great warrior who carried this sword. For ten generations, the rulers of the valley were men and women who proved their wisdom by never drawing this sword in anger, blindness, or hatred. It can be passed to anyone, and thus anyone can be ruler, as long as that person abides by our laws and traditions and always upholds the sanctity of the valley and the sword."

Her father nodded. "This sword is yours now, Eve. You may rule or you may find a husband and let him carry the sword. You are a courageous girl, my daughter. You disobeyed me, went into the forest, but you came back with a treasure I thought I would never again see. Above all, your actions allow us to uphold our traditions." He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. "I am very proud of you, my daughter."

"Thank you, Papa."

"Now, take you to your bed, my dear girl, and sleep. It is harvest time on the morrow, and you have a lot of work to do."

"I know. You have a lot of work to do as well, traveling to the other villages. You sleep, too. Good night, Papa."

She went to her room, a humble abode adorned only with the treasures she found in the Lower Woodlands. A branch from the tallest tree should could find, a twin-shaped leaf, the fossilized claw of some great arboreal animal, the skin of a lizard beast, a glass shard, an old metal rod that released beams of burning fire that lay beside a metal egg, a piece of that metal egg. These and more she kept all around her room, giving it the strange smell of wood and steel, life and death. She did not know what everything was, but she knew that she liked them. Others in the village thought her treasures strange and alien, but they applauded her efforts to understand the Lower Woodlands that had always seemed so frightening to them.

Eve took a folded leaf from her belt pouch and opened it. It was filled with the small husks of insects from the Lower Woodlands. Each shell looked like petrified rock, with bits of glimmering stone imbedded within. They were beautiful to behold. She pierced each husk with a needle and threaded a line of string through them, making a necklace. She hung the ornament on a hook by her bed and then pulled off her boots, belt, and tunic.

Once she was stripped to a simple linen shift, she poured out cold water into a stone bowl from a pewter pitcher and washed herself clean. Then she slipped into her cot, pulling the thick fur covers to her neck. The music of nocturnal insects lulled her to sleep.

* * *

Angela Marshair had not been to her homeworld of Trista Prime in over four years. Little had changed during that time, except for the standing of her household. As could be expected, the Marshair noble family had risen beyond its previous status, achieving new heights of opulence and influence. A part of her felt proud, another felt tired. It all seemed so pointless to her, this drive to acquire more power.

She said as much to the man before her, a meticulous and intelligent man in his fifties. Her father.

He had not taken her assessment well.

They sat in silence at the breakfast table. In his soft morning robes, he dined on fresh fish lathered with cream and a portion of hare imported from the wilds of far-off Edera with buttered buns made of fresh from the bakery. He downed it all with the richest of beverages. It was a feast rich in taste and price.

She ate a sparse meal of fruit, granola, and toast. It had been her breakfast of choice since Ran Tonno-Skeve began her training, and she continued the meager tradition out of respect for her slain master. That, and it was at once simple and wholesome in its own quaint way. She was dressed in the black tunic, trousers, and boots she had fashioned for herself when she declared herself a Jedi Knight. They were unflattering, plain, but they were serviceable. It was all a stark contrast to her father.

"And you are leaving for yet another mission, Angela?" her father asked, the first words he said to her all morning. Indeed, it was the first he had spoken to her in the past two days since their argument.

"I am," she replied stiffly.

"So you come to my household simply to see your mother's funeral."

"I felt I had to pay my respects. We did not part on…gentle terms."

He sent his fork down loudly. "No, no you did not. When you left, it broke her heart."

"It broke my heart that she—and you!—wanted to use me as another pawn for your power-grabbing schemes," she shot back. She would not accept the burden of guilt, not for this.

"We wanted what was best for you."

"No, you wanted what was best for our name, and don't deny it!"

"What nonsense you've learned," her father said. "I thought the Jedi taught wisdom, not nonsense."

"They taught me a whole lot more about real life than you ever did," she hurled back with much vitriol.

He slammed his hands on the table and shouted, "We gave you everything, Angela! We never asked for anything except a peaceable marriage! Was that so much to ask? Did we spoil you so much?"

"You wanted to cage me, Father," she returned. "I would have married a fool if I did what you wanted. A brainless fool. I'm glad I left, because I found a life of my own."

"Does it matter at all that by finding a life, you took your mother's?" he said quietly.

Her hands went cold, her heart stilled. "How dare you," she growled. "That was a cheap shot, Father."

"Well, it's true. It broke her heart, you leaving. She stopped eating, stopped sleeping. She drank all night. Drank herself right to death, eventually. I noticed you didn't say any words at her burial."

She straightened in her chair, stiffer than ever. "There were none that I wanted to say aloud."

"What did you want to say?"

"I'm sorry."

He closed his eyes and suddenly he seemed so small and tired and old. "I see. I think she would have liked to hear them." They ate in silence for a long time, thought neither could taste their food, rich and plain alike. To them, it tasted like ashes.

"You're mother left you something."

She nodded. "I know. I found it in her will."

"You're not wearing it."

"I…I don't wear jewelry anymore, Father." She tugged at her tunic. "This is who I am now. A Jedi Knight—I do not need material things."

"And so you deny her last gift to you. That's very cold of you, Angela."

She shook her head. "I'm not denying it. But I won't wear it. It is not who I am anymore. I hope she understands that."

Again came the silence. He broke it. "Where…where will you go now?"

She shrugged. "There's an assignment lined up for me. I have to arrest a dark Jedi who turned to piracy and may even be instigating rebellion. Master Skywalker asked me to do it because I've had experience in capturing people like him—pirates, that is. I have an idea of where to start looking, too. I have some friends I can talk to, who can tell me where he is."

"And so you're running with the gutter swine of the galaxy," he said sadly. "We raised you better than that, Angela." He looked at her sharply. "I even heard that you took such swine as your lover. Pre-marital relationships aside, you couldn't even find a decent boy."

"You will take that back _now_, Father," she said hotly, her temper flaring. "Ran died a noble and heroic man. I won't let anyone—especially you—disparage his memory. Understand? He was a better man than any of you."

Her father had heard enough. He set his utensils down, wiped his lips roughly, and stood. "It seems we've little else to talk about, Jedi Marshair. You know where the doors are. You can show yourself out." He left without another word.

Angela left the Marshair estate minutes afterward. She sat in the cockpit of the X-wing loaned to her by the Jedi Order, heating up its engines and cycling it through its take-off routines. Though her body, her fingers, and her eyes were on the flight instruments, her mind was latched to her bitter conversation with her father. But no matter how she turned the words in her head, she could not help but feel that her father was in the wrong.

"I'm not coming back here again, ever," she growled. The engines roared and she soared high in the sky and soon entered the white-and-black of space.

She turned on her communications channel. "Master Skywalker," she said, "I've finished my business and am heading out. Could you relay a message for me to an information broker named Bard? He should be operating out of Corellia."

"Certainly, Angela," replied Skywalker, his voice muddled by static. "I'm sorry to hear about your mother. My condolences."

"Thank you, Master Skywalker," she said perfunctorily, though she did not feel any gratitude at all. The last thing she wanted to remember was her own bitter words to her mother four years ago. "About that message."

"Go on."

"Tell Bard that I'll pay him two thousand credits for the location of that dark Jedi. He doesn't need to give me anything else other than that. I can handle the rest."

"Message relayed. Good hunting, Angela."

"Over and out."


	2. Valley of the Force, Ch 2

**Chapter Two: The Falling Star**

Eve spent the day helping the villagers harvest the wheat. It was not a large village, barely a hundred families—less than three hundred people, and almost two-thirds of them children. But they were all hardworking, united under the sense of belonging that characterized their lives. Anyone who could separate chaff from wheat was in the fields, doing just that. Those who could not had their own chores: repairing houses, watching over the toddlers and infants while their parents worked the grains, the millers pressed the grain into flour, and the smithy's fires lighted the midday air.

It was nearing sundown when the chores were finally finished, the harvest over. It had been a successful season, with produce in abundance. Eve smiled in delight. Now they had enough grain to make enough bread to trade for enough goods when the peddlers came the following month. By her estimate, there would still be plenty left over for her own people to use, as well. It had been a very good season.

With things so very positive for her village, Eve felt no guilt in heading back into the Lower Woodlands. The sun was well below the mountains, sending all into darkness. But she was not afraid of the dark, nor of the woods she trod. Again she wore the simple tunic she always wore when delving into the forest, with the same pouch strapped to her belt. But now she had a simple leather brace slung over her shoulder, and dangling from it, holstered in a crude sheath, was the broken sword.

Its edge had been sharpened—her doing, a long and tedious chore—so that it came to a point. She polished it, too, so that it gleamed in what little moonlight shone through the canopy. It felt right bouncing against her hip as she walked deeper into the forbidden woodlands. It was her heritage, and it was right for her to claim it as her own. Her father had said so.

So she walked and walked, the predators and plants giving way to her, almost bowing before her. This night she came for another treasure hunt. The deepest parts of the Lower Woodlands held metal relics from a bygone age, when her people soared among the stars. Few ever saw the heart of the forest, but she had—indeed, she saw it regularly. It was time for another look.

Hours passed as she pushed onward, past the vines and the trees, the insects and the animals, the cloying darkness and the hidden moonlight. It soon became too dark to see well, so she took out a glass vial from her pouch and captured some fireflies, using their light to show her way. And then she came out on a ledge overlooking a barren pit, where no tree grew or creature roamed. In that pit were great metal beasts, enormous and darkly beautiful.

Some looked like dolphins to her, conical and smooth, streamlined and graceful. Others were monstrous blocks, jagged at every corner, bestial and terrible. There were sounds, too, groaning and humming and chattering, as if the gutted metal giants were speaking…or letting out their death throes.

Eve smiled gaily. Every time she came to this place—this place she called the Metal Graveyard—she always found something of interest. But she never took her findings back home. Her people would never allow it. There were legends and stories of a curse that befell those who stole from the Metal Graveyard. It was unholy ground, so went the tales. But Eve only laughed away those yarns whenever she ventured here. There were far too many beautiful, wondrous things to be frightened away by ghost stories.

She hopped down the ledge expertly, knowing the safest way down to the pit. Her feet navigated the uneven terrain unconsciously, so often had she traveled its hidden roads. Her boots clanked against the metal and she began her search. For hours she sifted through the ruins, plucking away slabs of steel and coils of silvery material that she could not identify.

And then she let out a squeal of happiness. She pushed aside a plate with red markings on it—AETHERSPRITE STARFIGHTER, it said, whatever that meant; she did not care, since she had many similar plates with similar nonsense written on it—and found a glowing crystal cube beneath.

She held the glimmering item in her hands gently, fearing that its seeming fragility would shatter at the slightest touch. Its faces emitted a strange green light, keeping the darkness away better than any bottled firefly ever could. It was nothing short of mesmerizing, and it seemed to drink her attention, drawing upon her, glowing brighter and brighter with every breath she took.

She saw things in that cube, reflected upon its six surfaces. A falling star of metal, striking the mountains near her village. A woman in black, carrying a torch of green flame. A hideous man cloaked in shadow, his eyes yellow and evil. The woman and man fighting with arcane gestures, lightning crackling between them. The woman panting tiredly. And finally three objects—a wand, an amulet, and a knife—and Eve realized that the knife was the broken sword hanging from her shoulder.

The images faded from her mind as she opened her eyes—which she did not recall closing—with a start. The visions were like ghosts, wispy and untouchable, and they were not even a memory when she finally became aware of her surroundings. The pit had grown lighter. It was almost dawn.

"Oh no!" she cried. She had not expected to stay out so late, certainly not the whole night. "I'm going to be in so much trouble for this!" She hurried to the wall of the pit where a sliver on moonlight sliced through the canopy. There, she pulled out a rock, revealing a crevice she had found on one of her initial sojourns. It was cramped, tiny, but it served her well enough as a place to hide her treasures. She slipped the crystal cube between a tattered book in a language she could not read and a sphere with blinking numbers on it. Then she replaced the rock and climbed out of the pit. It was time to go home.

The sun was beginning its climb above the mountains when she finally reached the village. She was met by a group of worried villagers, her father forefront among them. Her shoulders sagged and she braced herself for the lecture she knew she would receive. To worry all of them so—she had disappointed them.

"What do you have to say for yourself, daughter?" her father asked sternly.

She said nothing, for she had nothing to say. Her dejected look and lowered head were words enough to express her shame.

"We're readying the mills and silos," her father said simply. "You will be in charge of the children. Be glad that I don't ask you to wear your hair in a girl's braid or to carry a girl's toy doll." That was a telling blow, for only the old and incompetent were given the role of caretaker when all others worked the grains. It was to teach the punished responsibility and patience and to remind them of their childish ways. Her shame was complete and she made sure not to look at anyone in the eye as she made her way to the grassy knoll where the children always played.

The day passed uneventfully for the workers, especially since their chores consisted of hauling bales of wheat to the mill or bags of finished grain to the silos. Eve found her morning, afternoon, and twilight consumed by the crying, howling, running, and anarchy of childcare. Girls in braids threw dolls at boys in ponytails, who in turn made silly faces at the girls, which only fanned the flames of gender war. No matter what she tried, Eve could not calm the raucous children. It was utter chaos and her ears rang in her head until the tinning ceased. She thought she had gone deaf from all the shouting.

It was, sadly, only temporary. Her hearing returned, as did the perpetual wailing of the next generation. Night finally fell, bringing exhaustion to the children and reprieve to their caretaker. The parents returned from their work and took their sleeping angels away to bed, leaving Eve alone to curse them as loud-mouthed devils. But she did not mean it. She was fond of the children, and they were fond of her; she simply had reached the limit of her patience.

Now soothing night and silence massaged her neck and shoulders, taking the tension from her like a miracle balm. The stars winked in the midnight black above her and she lay back on the grassy knoll to enjoy the view. Streaks filled the air, and she thought it was a meteor shower. But something was strange, for the streaks were not the white of stars or flying rocks, but red like blood. They became larger, sharper, distinct. And she saw that they were not meteors or stars.

It was something else—like something she had seen in the Metal Graveyard.

It shrieked in the night air, like a dying dragon or a vengeful demon, and it died crashing into the face of the mountains. A plume of fire and earth erupted into the darkness, showering the village in lights not seen since the last fireworks festival three winters back. There were startled cries as villagers went out of their homes to witness the strange event. The roar of fire, the moaning of a dying metal beast, the howling of the wind—all serenaded the destruction they saw before them.

Eve was one of the first to examine the wreckage, for she ran like the wind, leaving others to follow in her wake. Her feet were like clouds, ethereal and light, and she seemed to leave no print upon the ground. The flames raged like maddened demons from the depths of hell, surrounding the red-hot metal slabs of the slain steel beast. They danced like horrible devils, scorching the grass of the valley and the stone of the mountain. They were monstrous, all-burning, all-consuming.

Eve stared at them, undaunted and full of pride, for she was the princess of the valley. These flames would obey her. One by one, the flames extinguished, parting before her. That was when she saw her. A woman lying unconscious, possibly dying of asphyxiation, surrounded by the fires. She was dressed in black.

Eve waved a hand at the fires and they parted. "Help her," she ordered to the villagers nearest to her. "Bring water from the river and the medicine woman from the village. This woman here needs her cures. You and you, make a stretcher from that sheet of metal there. Make sure it isn't hot. You, help me carry her." They lifted the black-garbed woman carefully and laid her just as carefully onto the makeshift stretcher. "Now, let's get her out of here. Put out those flames, the rest of you! We can't let this spread to the fields. We'll search the place later."

They brought the black-garbed woman to the village walls, where the medicine woman waited for them with baskets of plants and poultices and mortars and pestles and bandages and other such things as a medicine woman would need. "Help this woman, please," Eve begged. "She is familiar to me, somehow, though I swear by the trees that I've never once seen her. But heal her."

The old medicine woman knelt by the black-garbed woman and pressed her withered ear to the ashen lips. "Princess," the medicine woman said, "this one lies dying. There is no air in her. Bring me my baskets. I will make a potion to give her air."

The potion was foul in scent and probably far fouler in taste, but the medicine woman unhesitatingly poured the vile libation down the still throat and gently tilted the head forward, to let the drink flow down to the belly. The black-garbed woman was lifeless, like a corpse, but suddenly lurched as coughs wracked her body.

"The air will enter soon," the medicine woman said confidently, as the black-garbed woman coughed and coughed and coughed. "She must remove the poisons she has breathed. She must purify her lungs."

Purification came with a gag and a final cough, and reached a crescendo with the smell of vomit. Blackened mucous spilt upon the dirt of the village and the black-garbed woman gasped in the fresh air of the valley.

Eve knelt before her, laying a calming hand upon the black-garbed shoulder. "You are all right," she said. "You are safe, whoever you are."

"Where am I?" the black-garbed woman asked numbly through stiff lips. Eve blinked—the strange woman spoke her language! "Who are you?" the woman asked.

"You are in my valley, where my Papa rules," Eve answered, overcoming her initial shock. "I am Eve, princess of the valley. Now no more questions. You must rest." She turned to a villager and saw that it was Atroclos, the night watchman. "Atroclos, inform Papa that there will be a guest in our household. I will take this woman to the tower. She needs rest and the hospitality we can provide."

Eve turned to help the black-garbed woman to her feet, but she had already fallen asleep.

* * *

Angela woke in a strange bed in strange clothes. Her head hurt as if she had spent a week of nights tossing back round after round of high-grade Corellian ale. It was a struggle to simply open her eyes, and she almost had to call upon the Force to silence the pounding in her skull. But it was no hangover, she knew—it was worse. Injuries flamed to life, sending searing agony through her limbs.

A concussion then, she reasoned blearily, congratulating herself on even that simple coherent thought. She forced her eyelids open, ignoring the white flash that became her vision. It cleared slowly, and she surveyed her surroundings.

She lay in a cot with a crude leather skin or pelt for a blanket. The room was a sparse affair, made of mud bricks and masonry, also crude, yet also noble in its innocent simplicity. There were no furnishings other than the cot and blanket. Her clothes were likewise simple: a frock of cured hide. She wore no leggings or boots, and her bare legs were cold in the dim room. A pair of leather wrappings—shoes, she realized—lay at the foot of the cot.

It seemed so backward to her, so plain. She recalled an auburn-haired girl in a dirty red tunic telling her she was in a valley. Eve, she had named herself.

The thought of names brought Angela to full attention. "Atropos!" she cried in alarm. "Damn it, where'd he get to? He shot me down and I returned fire, but I don't remember if I killed him or not."

The door opened suddenly, and Angela reflexively pulled the blanket to her chest. "You are awake at last," a sprightly teenager greeted warmly, entering with a tray of cloths and a bowl of water. "I would have knocked if I had known you were up." She had auburn hair and wore the red tunic from the night before.

"You are…Eve?" Angela asked. Though the young Jedi had never heard the girl's language before, she had no trouble speaking or understanding it. Long ago, she mastered her inborn talent of using the Force to comprehend any spoken dialect. It was, plainly enough, a useful ability.

The girl nodded. "I am." She could not have been more than fifteen.

"It's a pretty name."

"Thank you, you are too kind. Here." She handed her a cloth soaked green. "The medicine woman wants it placed over the wound on your shoulder."

Angela did as she bade, though she winced at the foul odor and the bite of the concoction's sting as it touched her wound. "Dreadful stuff," she grunted. "What is it?"

"Something to take your mind away from this," the girl, Eve, answered, placing white powder into a clay cup of water. "Drink."

Angela did so and almost gagged at the foul taste. "So what's _this_?" she squeaked.

"Willow bark."

"Oh." She was familiar with the potion—it was the basis of many painkillers. But it suggested just how backward this girl and her people were, if they referred to it as willow bark. "Well, that green stuff didn't take my mind away from that drink."

Eve laughed. "I suppose not. It works with the children. What is your name?"

"I am Angela Marshair, a Jedi Knight."

Eve blinked. "You have a pretty name too, Angela Marshair."

"Just Angela will do."

"Angela, then. But what is a Jedi Knight?"

The brown-haired Jedi knew then that she was truly on a backwater world. Rather than delving into a complicated and time-consuming explanation, she gave the girl the basics. "I'm a wandering servant of justice. A knight-errant, I guess."

"So what were you doing falling out of the sky?"

"I was shot down by someone. An evil man."

"Shot down?" Eve asked wonderingly. "I do not understand. You fell down. You were in that great metal beast, the animal that died when it hit the mountainside. We found you in it."

"Great metal…oh. You mean my ship."

"Ship? It was no ship, Angela. The ships of this valley are of wood, not metal."

Angela sighed. "Um, let's forget about it, Eve. Let's just call it the great metal beast. Speaking of metal things, I did your people find a lightsaber—I mean, a shaft of metal about this long. I guess you'd call it a rod. I'd like it back, if you did find it. But you shouldn't play with it because it's very dangerous."

Eve nodded eagerly. "We found such an item. You were wearing it. The girls helping the medicine woman put it away with the rest of your clothes when they dressed your wounds last night. It's all under the cot, actually."

The girl knelt at the bedside. "Here, let me get it for you. You shouldn't be up, not with those wounds. Ah." She held the lightsaber and gave it to Angela.

"Thank you, Eve." The Jedi laid her hands and weapon in her lap and smiled warmly at the girl. "You and your people have been very kind in taking care of me. Is there anything I can do to repay your hospitality?"

Eve's smile took in her ears. She remained kneeling by the cot, but then propped her chin on her hands, planting her elbows on the cot itself. "We do not expect payment from guests, Angela. It is not our way. We like visitors, you see, but only if they are friendly. But you look like someone who's seen a lot of wonderful things, been to marvelous places. You look like an adventurer."

Angela chuckled. The girl was certainly observant. "I suppose I do. And I have been on many adventures."

"Then tell me a story if you want to pay for our kindness." Her eyes—a stunning blue, Angela noted—twinkled merrily. "I like stories, you see."

Another laugh escaped the young Jedi. "I had a…good friend…who liked stories too. He's dead now, but I can tell you one that he told me. How old are you, by the way?"

"Fifteen."

"Ah, well, then you'll like this one, because it's about a boy and two girls who were exactly your age. They went to a magical world made of ice and snow, looking for something."

"What were they looking for?" the girl asked.

"You'll see. Now, the thing that they were looking for was a magic man who knew answers to questions they had. The questions were not important, though. It was finding the magic man that was important. So the boy and the two girls went through the snowstorms and up the mountains for many, many days and nights. Then they found the magic man's palace, a grand stone temple hidden in the mountains. It was covered with snow and looked very beautiful.

"They entered it, of course, because they thought that they could find the magic man. And they did. But he was not the magic man they were looking for."

"What do you mean? I'm confused—how could the magic man not be the magic man?"

"It was a trick. The magic man they found was a monster, a ghost who took over the bodies of other people. The magic man died a long time ago, and the ghost took over. The boy and two girls were frightened, but they tricked the ghost and escaped."

"How'd they trick it?"

"I…I don't know, actually. I never asked. Um, anyway, the boy and two girls got away, but the ghost was very angry at being tricked. It planned to kill them and followed them. But they had another trick ready. What they did was lure the ghost to a magic pool, where it was weak. They fought the ghost and destroyed it. And that's the end of the story."

Eve looked at her blankly for a moment, seemingly judging the quality of the tale in her mind. Then she said, "It's a so-so story. You need to work on your delivery."

Angela shrugged and smiled weakly. "I'm not much of a storyteller. My friend told it to me better. He really liked stories."

"What was his name?"

"Oh. Ran Tonno-Skeve."

"It's a funny name, but…warm-sounding." The girl nodded, agreeing with her own assessment. Angela found that she, too, agreed. Ran had been a warm and wonderful man.

Eve stood up and picked up the tray. "Well, I'll leave you to rest. Thank you for the story, Angela."

The girl was about to leave when the young Jedi raised a hand. "Wait. I have a question. Did you find anyone else near me? Anyone at all? Were there any other ships—er, metal beasts?"

The girl shook her head. "You were the only one we found. The medicine woman will be around to check up on you later. Sleep well, Angela." The door shut, leaving the young Jedi in solitude.


	3. Valley of the Force, Ch 3

**Chapter Three: A Short Interlude**

Eve awoke early the next morning, the bright, warm sunlight bathing her face and drawing sleep from her eyes. She stretched and yawned, got up, and blearily poured cold water into a bowl. She dunked a washcloth in it and scrubbed her face thoroughly and then proceeded to scrub her teeth with a twig, salt, and soda.

Her morning toilet complete, she threw off the simple linen shift she wore and pulled on her bedraggled tunic, smoothing out the many wrinkled with her hands to little avail. Boots and belt went on next, followed lastly by her battered pouch. Thusly garbed, she threw open her door and went out to meet the day.

"Oh, Banna, good morning!" she greeted merrily, recognizing one of the passing servants carrying two buckets of spring water. The young lady curtsied as much as she was able, burdened as she was, and returned the salutation warmly. Eve stepped up to help her with one of the heavy buckets. "Let me take one, please," she said with a smile.

Together, she and Banna went to the kitchen and poured the water into a crank-pump reservoir. "Thank you, Princess," Banna said, curtseying with more freedom. Eve nodded, gave her one last smile, and picked up a bread roll on the way out.

She munched on her breakfast with relish, savoring the warm, fresh taste. It had come straight from the oven and was lightly buttered. "Oh!" she said with a start, blinking. "Our guest will want something to eat, too." She went right back into the kitchen and found a wicker basket, piling in several rolls, a wheel of cheese, and a small stone jug of milk with cream. These she took with her on her merry march up to the guest chambers.

"Hello?" the girl asked, knocking a few times on the guest chamber door. It opened slowly, a pair of sleep-glazed eyes peering out from behind. Eve smiled and hoisted the basket. "I thought you might want some breakfast. It's not much, but it's good."

"Oh…good morning, Eve," Angela murmured tiredly. She seemed to be moving at half-speed. "That…breakfast? Wonderful. Please, come in." Her words came out slowly, as if she were struggling through the motions of morning ritual while everyone else was already moving beyond her.

"Are you all right?" Eve asked in concern.

"Just…tired. Not…a morning…person."

"Obviously not," the girl agreed with a chuckle. She pushed open the door and set the basket at the bedside. Angela wobbled to it, sitting down at the edge of the cot. She picked up a buttered roll and bit into it numbly. The Jedi ate mechanically, seemingly unable to taste the food. Eve frowned.

"You must really be tired if you don't like the rolls," she said petulantly. "Come on!" she shouted suddenly, "Wake up!"

Angela's eyes snapped open in surprise at the increase in volume. She almost choked on the roll as a result, a spectacle that sent Eve hurtling into laughter. "Sorry," she apologized over her giggles. "But you really should try the rolls."

After she had recovered from her near-fatal episode, Angela shot the girl a withering glance. "These rolls had better be good," she warned playfully. "You almost killed me to get me to eat them." She bit into the bread again, and her eyes widened. "Wow! You're right, this stuff _is_ good."

Eve watched the Jedi devour one roll and then another. She picked up a roll herself and split it open and then she broke off a piece of cheese and slid it between the halves. "Do you not eat freshly-baked bread where you come from?"

Angela shook her head. "Not usually. It's all prefabricated, dehydrated, or artificial. I haven't tasted anything remotely like this."

The girl did not understand all of what the Jedi said, but she caught the meaning of her words. It surprised Eve just how different Angela's universe was from her own. To never taste fresh bread? What kind of food do they eat, then? she wondered. The Jedi was a truly mysterious and complex being to her young mind, full of experiences she had never known. But clearly, the reverse was true as well.

Angela had just finished drinking a cup of cold milk, cream and all, when she said, "Eve, could you tell me more about your village? I did not see much of it last night, obviously, and I'm very curious about its people and its environment."

Eve had expected such a question. There were few visitors to her little village, as distant from larger clusters of civilization as it was, but almost every traveler that did come through asked the same thing. She was more than happy to answer it.

"We're a small, self-sufficient farming town," she began, "and we make our living the only way we know how—by working together. There aren't very many of us, but there's enough to get all the chores done. We plant wheat, mostly, though there are a few gardens near the sunnier sides where we grow lettuce, potatoes, carrots, and radishes. A few other things, too. We have vineyards along the mountainsides and orchards of apples and oranges along the foot of them. Mostly, though, we grow wheat.

"We just finished the harvest yesterday, actually. Everyone gets excited during harvest time. After the harvest we have a celebration. You're welcome to join, if you'd like. It started tonight. Anyway, everyone who can work, works in the fields on harvest time, even the children. The only ones who don't work are the really young children, the really old adults, the medicine woman, and the millers. Even the blacksmith leaves his forge to separate chaff from wheat.

"But even if you're not working in the fields, you're working. The old folks watch over the young children, who catch fish or small game most of the day. Whatever they catch is prepared for the harvest festival. They really get into the hunt right now because they're the only ones catching any food; everyone else is harvesting. They like the responsibility of feeding everyone. It's good, because it teaches them duty and responsibility.

"Today we'll be preparing for the evening festival. There's no work today, except to get the tables set up, the dance poles put up, and the food cooked. A lot of people my age will be looking for future spouses because there's a belief that the moon that rises the day after harvest will bring fertility and good luck to those who are in love."

Angela smiled and asked mischievously, "Are you looking for a future husband yourself?"

Eve colored slightly and shook her head. "I thought I was going to, but the boy I was looking for already confessed to another girl. I don't mind; they knew each other for a very long time. Actually," she said while clasping her hands against her lips, "I don't know why I mentioned that to you, a complete stranger. Sorry."

Angela shook her head. "Don't be. You don't need to talk about it if you don't want to."

"Actually, I feel kind of comfortable…telling you. I don't know why. It feels like you'd understand somehow. It's a good feeling." Eve colored again. "I'm sorry—I didn't mean for that to sound so odd."

The young Jedi laughed. "I said don't worry about it. I'm not really sure why you feel all right telling me these things, but I'm honored that you hold me in your trust, especially since we don't know much about each other."

"Will you tell me about yourself, then?" Eve asked.

Angela settled back into the cot and nodded. She pillowed her head against her arms. "There's not much to say about me, really. I ran away from home to avoid a marriage I didn't want, my father hates me, my mother's dead, and my…my significant other died about a few years ago."

Eve looked down, her hair tumbling before her face. "I'm sorry to hear that. My condolences about your mother and husband."

"Er…he wasn't my husband," Angela admitted quietly. "But he made me feel like we were married. It was a wonderful thing I had with him."

"Do you miss him?"

"Of course. He and I were inseparable."

The girl leaned back on her elbows, relaxing on the floor. "Could you tell me about him? Your lover?"

The young Jedi seemed reluctant at first, but ultimately capitulated. "He was very handsome, but most people you fall in love with will look good to you. But he was _really_ handsome—and that's not an exaggeration. His looks, his charm, even the way he glanced at you got him into so much trouble when he was younger. But he was the kind of man who thrived on trouble and excitement. I guess you could say he was a thrill-seeker and a troublemaker. But I loved him for it."

Eve laughed. "He sounds like someone a mother would tell her daughter to stay away from."

Angela shared in her mirth. "Yes, he was. He was a real rogue."

"And do you miss your mother?"

The Jedi's face went hard, pallid. "I…I can't say that I do. We did not part on good terms, and while I'm sorry that it ended that way, I don't miss her at all. We never really got along very well. I know that must sound cruel, but…but that's how I feel."

Eve lowered her head again. "I never knew my mother," she whispered. "But I think I miss her. Or at least I miss not knowing her." She turned her soulful eyes to the Jedi. "Maybe you should reconcile with the memory of your mother. Do not leave this ghost of bitterness behind."

Angela's eyes went hard. "I don't think you have any call to say that, Eve. You know nothing about me or my family life. I don't even know why I told you any of that stuff about my mother. Forget I said it."

"Wait," Eve pleaded, seeing the Jedi raise barriers around her. "Wait, I'm sorry if what I said offended you. I did not mean to. My people are very family-centric, though we a communal people. In a way, everyone is family in our village. Births and deaths, marriages, and every little victory are ours to share. It is how we live and survive. No one is ever truly alone because everyone is family here."

"It is a pretty lifestyle you lead, then." Angela sounded cold, distant, hard.

"The point is," Eve pressed, "we love each other as family. Any qualms we have, we reconcile because we're family. Families work because you trust, love, and reconcile. Your mother is dead, and you live on with bitterness in your heart. Do you really hate your family so much that you'd leave it at that? I do not know you, that is true, but I cannot believe that someone—anyone—could have such hatred."

Angela seemed to grow more distant. "There are some really hateful people out there, Eve." The distance suddenly grew shorter between them, and the young Jedi smiled. "But you're right. I don't hate my family. I'm…I'm angry with them, but I don't hate them. I disagree with them, but I wouldn't wish anything bad on them." A wry chuckle escaped her. "Thanks for setting my head straight, Eve."

The girl smiled. "You looked like you needed it." She stood and took Angela's hands in hers, helping the Jedi to her feet. "Come, enough dreary talk. I want to show you the village. Maybe if I show you how we live like one family, you'll find it in yourself to truly reconcile with your mother."

"I'd like that."

* * *

Angela had to admit—the valley was truly beautiful. The wind played through her hair, making the brown strands dance to its gentle music. The air was cool, but not too cool. It was just pleasant enough. It smelled of freshness, crispness, and wheat. Again, not too strongly, but just enough. Indeed, now that she reflected on it, the valley, the village, even young Eve herself all followed some form of moderation. Nothing was too much, nothing was too little. She saw little bits of evidence—in moderation, no less—showing this aspect of their simple lifestyle.

Eve led her through the dirt streets of the village, showing her everything. The houses were of mud, hardened in the sun, with thatch roofs. Each was simple in construction, each used the same design, but each was also different in some way. The differences were subtle though, moderate after a fashion. A little string of colored beads over the main entrance or a set of glazed pots holding wildflowers placed by the door. Little things like that gave the houses an individual character. But in all, the houses reflected the villagers: a unified family made up of unique individuals.

The villagers themselves seemed cast from the same mold, but at once different from each other. From the smallest child to the oldest adult, they wore simple tunics like Eve's, with boots, laced sandals, or leather wrappings around their feet. Some wore belts and pouches, others wore sashes. Many women wore togas, but even those flowing clothes were cut of the same material as the tunics. But again, there were little differences. A bracelet of woven grasses adorning a slim wrist, a bandana cut from hide tying back a boy's long hair, a buckle made from shining stones ornamenting an otherwise plain belt. One family, one mold—made up of scores of unique people.

Angela plucked at her own clothing. Her black clothes were being laundered, so she wore the tunic and sandals of a young woman of the valley, at least for now. The plain woolens were comfortable, if baggy and unflattering, but she wished that the villagers' typical dress included trousers. She felt odd walking around without pants. She fought the urge to tug her tunic's hem lower. The blasted thing only came to mid-thigh. The sensation made her so uncomfortable that she broached the subject to Eve.

"Wait," the girl said suddenly, "didn't you put on the shorts?"

Angela colored in a mixture of humiliation and heated annoyance. "There were _shorts_?"

"Yes," the girl said innocently. She raised the hem of her tunic, revealing a pair of leather shorts. They were very stout shorts. They were shorts that existed. "Didn't you get one?"

"No!"

That sent the girl into an unstoppable fit of laughter. Angela took some small comfort in knowing that she kept her lightsaber at her belt. In her current attire and current mood, she was more than capable of taking the first hand that tried to lift up her tunic.

"We'll get you some shorts when we get back to the tower," Eve promised over her giggles.

"This isn't funny," the mortified Jedi protested. The girl just kept on laughing. Unique individuals, indeed!

Eve argued otherwise. "But it is! You see, only girls who were _really_ looking to pick up a husband would walk around without their shorts. Boys looking for wives do something else, but I don't know what it is. It's one of those things no one else knows. In fact, the boys don't know about the shorts thing, either. It's become something of a game, trying to figure out what the 'special thing' is that the other sex does when they're looking for spouses."

"And no boy has tried to lift your tunic?" Angela asked, astonished. After living in the dregs of the galaxy, where cutthroats, scoundrels, and drunkards ran as rampant as slime behind a Hutt lord, the idea that the males of the village had not bothered to look in the most obvious of places was baffling. She just could not believe that there was a whole village of chivalric men who _did not_ try to peek under a girl's skirt.

Ran would die of laughter if he heard about this, she thought with amusement. By the Force, he'd probably take the initiative and pull up as many tunics as he could!

"No, not to my knowledge," Eve said. "Well, I'm sure that _after_ a boy's married a girl, he gets to find out. But he never tells anyone else. It's a tradition. It encourages marriage, you see. It's like a prize, finding out."

Angela had to admit that there was some sound logic in that. "That's some trick, Eve. Put a leash on a man for the rest of his domestic life just to find out one little thing." The girl stuck out her tongue impishly. Obviously, she completely agreed with her assessment.

The Jedi fidgeted, tugging down her tunic. "Do you mind if we head back to the tower for a bit?"

Eve smiled innocently at her. "Feeling cold?" she said wryly. Angela was amazed that the girl could deliver such a remark without looking smarmy.

"You could say that. Can we please get some shorts?"

Eve's laughter did not stop until they reached the tower.


	4. Valley of the Force, Ch 4

**Chapter Four: The Mystery of the Outbound Flight**

Eve spent the next week showing Angela around the village while the other villagers repaired the fallen metal beast—Angela's ship. The mysterious stranger—this self-styled "Jedi Knight," whatever that meant—was quite taken with her people's ways and traditions. She called it "quaint" and "tender." Eve always thought her village as normal. To call it quaint seemed alien to her, for it was the only way of living she knew.

The Jedi fascinated the girl. Angela was only a few years older, but she carried herself such an aura of control and experience that Eve, for all her treks into the brutal Lower Woodlands, could not hope to match. Her Papa, a skilled warrior himself, quietly told her one evening that the Jedi woman was far superior a swordmaster than he ever could be. Beautiful, a mighty warrior, with thousands of adventures behind her—Angela Marshair was the epitome of what Eve glorified.

It was like witnessing the birth of a star or hearing the Lower Woodlands in the still night.

Angela helped out with the daily chores, though from the first day she left her cot, bandages and all, she insisted on donning her black attire. Eve wondered if there was some special significance in her clothing, even though they were decidedly plain. And Angela never left her guest chambers without that strange metal wand hanging from her belt.

"What is this _lightsaber_ of yours, anyway?" Eve asked that evening, a full week after the Jedi landed in their village. "You seem very protective of it. Is it a family heirloom or a magical device? The medicine woman takes as much care of her bracelets as you do your lightsaber because they aid in her healing."

Angela shook her head and unclipped the rod from her belt. "The lightsaber is a Jedi's weapon."

"It doesn't look like a weapon."

"Which is why we Jedi prefer it. Very innocuous, yet also very dangerous in the hands of an expert—and even more so in the hands of the untrained."

"I don't understand. How is it more dangerous if you don't know how to use it?"

The Jedi pressed the button on the metal shaft. Eve let out a yelp of surprise when a bright green blade boiled forth with a hiss. "With this," Angela said grimly, "I can cut through a mountainside like a hot knife through butter. With it, I can protect people and myself. But in the hands of some without training, this same weapon can harm the wielder—or those around the wielder." The blade disappeared and the weapon returned to her belt.

"You have a very strange weapon," Eve said quietly. "I've never seen anything made of living flame before...or have I?" She shook her head, clearing it of chimeras. "Sorry. I just felt like I saw your lightsaber somewhere before. But that's impossible, of course. Did Atroclos and his group come back in yet?"

Angela shook her head. "I did not see them. I do thank you and your people for salvaging my ship. I realize that it's the height of the harvest season, and that you have many chores to do. I apologize for the inconvenience."

It was Eve's turn to shake her head. "Don't worry about it. Here, try this." She handed the Jedi an apple. "A little something to tide you over until lunch. It'll be your turn to help with the dishes, just to remind you."

Angela bit into the fruit with relish. "I won't forget."

Lunch was a hearty affair. The midday eating halls were packed with men and women fresh from the fields and the mills. The children ran in from the river with trout and other game fish slung over their shoulders. The sun beat down heavily, unusual this late in the season, but it uplifted the spirits of the villagers. Eve looked around but did not see her father among the crowd. She shrugged and picked up some wooden bowls and spoons, handing one set to Angela.

"There's a gruel pot over there," she said, pointing. "And there's loaves on the other side. And cheese, too. I'll get us those if you find us a seat and some drinks."

In a matter of minutes, the two were seated by a group of other young women, all around Angela's age. Some wore their hair long and loose, the sign of marriage; others wore their hair short, like Eve's, the sign of availability. "Patra, Elda, this is Angela Marshair, the woman who came from the metal beast," the girl announced. "How are the children doing, Patra?"

"Pleased to meet you, Angela Marshair. Oh, little Zesha just learning how to walk now. He's growing up so fast, you know. He's the sweetest little thing. His father wants to show him how to string a bow soon, but I keep telling him that he needs to grow up some more, but you know Jebadiah."

Eve laughed at the thought of the burly, but simple man. "Do I know him. You're lucky to have him, Patra. He may be plain in the head, but he's a hardworking fellow with a heart of gold."

"Your words are very kind, Princess. Thank you for them."

Elda inched forward, leaning toward Angela. "Tell us more about yourself, Angela. Where are you from? Do you really come from the stars, like the gossip says?"

"I suppose I do," Angela answered guardedly. Eve wondered why she was so reticent. The Jedi continued, "I'm actually from Trista Prime. It's…uh…very far away from here."

"What do you think of our village?" Patra asked.

"Well, it's very nice. I haven't seen any place as peaceful and friendly as your valley in a very long time and your hospitality is second to none. I feel like I'm with family here, which is strange in a way, because I don't get along too well with my own family." Eve saw the wince, the subtle and angry twitch of an eyebrow.

"Oh surely not!" Elda protested. "You're a fine woman, Angela. I've seen you working in the fields with the strength of the men. And you certainly act like a good person. How do you not get along with your kin, if you don't mind my asking?"

Angela shrugged. "It's complicated and I'd rather not get into it. I don't really understand why, myself. Tell me, do you all work so well together, in this communal living of yours?"

"Yes," Eve answered. "It's the ways things have always been."

"How long have you lived here, in the valley? How far back do your traditions run?"

The girl thought about that, thinking about all the tales her father, her grandfather, her uncles and aunts and the other villagers and wise people had told her. "We must have been here for about ten generations, I think. One of my ancestors brought us here, and he left this," she placed her broken sword on the table, "as proof of who rules."

Angela examined the weapon but did not touch it. "It's very beautiful. How did it get broken?"

Eve shrugged. "I think my grandfather brought it into the Lower Woodlands—that's the forbidden lands down to the south—but he died there. I had to search forever to find it."

"I take it from the sideways glances of your friends that going into these Lower Woodlands is not something a girl your age should be doing," Angela noted wryly.

"Or any proper girl should be doing at any age," Elda added. "It is a very dangerous place, Angela. Clawed predators greater than any man here or any beast of burden will kill you and eat you up faster than you can say 'shooting stars among us.' And you'll get lost in those cursed woods right quick. The trees are so thick that you can't see the sunlight, leaving all in perpetual darkness."

Angela looked at Eve with eyes that bored into her soul. The girl shivered as the Jedi seemed to read her very heart. "And she goes in there. Probably regularly? And she comes back out every time, too." She smiled. "You're a very brave and remarkable girl if you can find adventure in such a place, Eve."

Eve smiled back, suddenly feeling that she found a kindred spirit. "Yes. I can take you there, if you want!" She spoke on impulse, and immediately regretted it.

Elda and Patra frowned warningly. Patra said, "Princess! This is our guest! You do not bring guests into so vile a place as that. It is very dangerous, you know that. You shouldn't even be going there. Why, if I was your mother—the gods give her soul peace—I'd lay you over my knee right now. And to suggest bringing so fine a guest there, too!" Eve shrank back from her matriarchal authority. She knew better than to argue with a mother.

"Actually, I'm curious about the Lower Woodlands," Angela cut in. "Eve showed me some of the stuff she brought from there. It's hanging in her room. I actually recognize some of it and I'd like to see more, if possible."

"I can show you where there's a lot of stuff!" Eve said brightly. "Big metal beasts like the one you rode in, too! I call it the Metal Graveyard because there's a lot of them. The stuff in my room was just lying around the forest floor, but the Metal Graveyard is nothing _but_ those things. It's really quite wondrous. I'll show you."

"I'd like that, Eve."

"Then come with me," she said, taking the Jedi's hand excitedly. "We need to get you some things for the trip. Elda, Patra, tell the others that I'm taking Angela sightseeing!" She threw them a wink, talking and moving so fast that the two older women could not get a word in edgewise. By the time the women had recovered from the torrent that was Eve, the girl and the Jedi were already running back to the tower.

* * *

In less than half an hour, Angela and Eve were treading through the underbrush of the Lower Woodlands. The canopy was not as thick in the northern parts of the forest, and slashes of sunlight crept through, illuminating their path. Angela wiped sweat from her brow. Her tunic was thick and woolen, uncomfortable to wear in the forest. She glanced over Eve's sleeveless linen tunic with envy. The girl was not even breaking a sweat, not even breathing hard.

"You're certainly a healthy girl," Angela noted, struggling to keep pace with her companion. "I can do flips and sprint a hundred meters in a heartbeat, but I can't do it all day like you can. Whew!" Again she wiped her brow. "Damn hot out here."

"I asked if you wanted a frock," Eve said smilingly. "But you insisted on wearing that thing. Wait, don't drink your canteen yet! There won't be any way to refill it for at least another two hours." She pointed to the southeast, into the thicker parts of the wood. "There's a lake down that way, but it's hard to get to. There's a chasm we'd have to cross. I know a stream a bit further this way. It's father, but easier to get to."

"You're very knowledgeable about a place that's forbidden," the Jedi said with a wry grin. "I take it you get yourself into trouble a lot."

The girl shrugged and smirked. She looked so innocent. "I guess I do. But you know, the villagers aren't really all that mad at me, I'm sure of it. See, I always bring them back something from the forest. There's lots of stuff lying around here, especially the deeper you go. Metal and glass shards, packs of odd medicine, weird glowing things, things that spew out rope, that sort of thing. I know a lot about them, now. Don't know what they're called or how to make any of it, but I know how to use them."

Angela nodded at the precocious girl. What she described, the young Jedi realized, were pieces of wreckage from starships: hull plating, medpacs, tools. It made her wonder just how many ships had crashed on this backwater planet. Come to think of it, Angela thought, I don't recall this world being on any of the star charts or planetary records. How did a place like this stay hidden all this time?

But that was a question for another day. Right now, the Lower Woodlands gave Angela the hope that she could find a way off-planet. Her ship had been shattered to so much refuse, with the hyperdrive components and navigational computer as the only salvageable pieces. She had no long-range communications, no way to fly off the surface. But perhaps there was a useable hull, or even a whole starship, rusting in the woods or in the Metal Graveyard Eve had mentioned. Either way, she had parts to get her home—now all she needed was the ship to put those parts in.

"What other things did you find?" the Jedi asked.

"Lots of things. Last week, just a few hours before you crashed, actually, I found a funny glowing crystal. It was shaped in a cube, and I swore I saw things in it. Like visions."

That stopped Angela in her tracks. "You what?" she said dumbly, shock still making its way through her system. Glowing crystal, cubical, visions—a Jedi holocron? If that's true, Angela mused in growing excitement, then that would explain why no one found this planet. After all, Master Skywalker used that Fallanassi illusion technique to hide Yavin Four for all those years…a similar trick must be active on this world.

The implications astounded her. A world that the Jedi had visited—and, from a logical standpoint, they had to have been from the old Jedi Order, when the Old Republic was at its height. It was the only time period in which the Jedi could have had the resources to send an expedition this far out into the edges of the known galaxy. But the Jedi never returned, or else there would have been some record. Something kept the Jedi here. Angela cycled the possibilities in her mind. A crash? Did they all die? Were their ships disabled? Other questions went through: Were the Jedi still here? If they are, why are they hiding? Why didn't they detect her? It was all mind-boggling to her, but her hopes rose a hundred-fold.

"Take me to this crystal," Angela begged. "I know what it might be, Eve, and its very important to my order, the Jedi Knights."

Eve looked at her, slightly confused, but willing to trust her. "All right, Angela. Come with me. I hid it along with some other stuff near the Metal Graveyard. What is it, anyway?"

"From your description, it's a Jedi holocron—a crystal that stores information. Those who are trained in using it can access its lore." As soon as she said that, another thought hit her. Eve said she saw visions in it. That meant…. "Eve, you've never used a holocron before, right?"

The girl shook her head.

Angela nodded, her suspicions confirmed. "Take me to the holocron. I'll explain once where there."

They walked in silence, but Angela's mind was astir with thoughts. Eve used the holocron without any prior training. Only a trained Jedi could activate a Jedi holocron and use it properly, that much was true—but any Force-sensitive being could catch glimpses of lay within. If Eve was able to see into the crystal, then she had to be Force-sensitive. It made sense to Angela the more she watched the girl work her way through the forest. Trees bent away from her, animals that came to the edge of their path turned away, and vines and branches merely turned aside when she came close. Though Angela could not sense any Force-auras around Eve, it was obvious that the girl was calling upon its energies to manipulate the life-forces around her, to make them obey her.

Controlling plants and animals were applications of the Force that Angela had never witnessed before. Embroiled in disputes and missions that took her into the heart of civilization, she never had the opportunity to see what mysticism could be concocted by using the Force in a natural setting. But now she saw the fruit of such abilities. And it impressed her.

Odd that I can't sense the Force in her, Angela thought. But then again, hiding oneself from those sensing for others in the Force is a requisite skill. It not an unusual ability—practically all Jedi had some familiarity in the technique, especially during the Yuuzhan Vong war when the Jedi-hunting voxyn were employed—but it was unusual for someone to be using the ability constantly. Using it constantly _and_ without any formal training. Angela concluded that she must either be quite strong in the Force or very specialized in her powers.

And then the Metal Graveyard loomed before them. Angela let out a slow whistle. She recognized many of the starship designs that filled the massive pit. At least twelve large transports and a complement of starfighters lay in ruins, their skeletons a sad testimony to their magnificence. All of them were Old Republic era, she was sure of it.

"Eve, could you bring me that crystal? I'd like to take a look around here for a bit." Angela hopped down to the pit, her feet crunching the metal beneath. Her eyes roved the gutted vessels, looking for anything that identified them. So many ships, she thought with wonder. Only an exploration team would need this much in transport craft. Her boot crumpled a battered durasteel plate with faded writing on it, but she could make it out easily enough. What was written upon it chilled her bones.

The plate read OUTBOUND FLIGHT.

"Impossible," she breathed. "That's impossible. Outbound Flight was lost, all the Jedi Masters killed." She looked around some more and found other pieces of evidence. Another metal plate, this one with the serial and model numbers for an AETHERSPRITE, a type of snub fighter she recognized as the colloquially known 'Jedi starfighter,' built shortly before the Clone Wars. The starboard side of a transport ship, cut cleanly in half down the middle, bore the name CLUSTERED SUN, one of the ships used in the Outbound Flight project. There was FOR THE REPUBLIC, a decommissioned gunship assigned to the project. "This is it," she murmured numbly, her mind finally starting to believe what lay before her eyes. "This is the Outbound Flight."

But it was only about half of it, she realized. Twelve transports, only a portion of what was attached to the project. The others were still missing, lost to whatever limbo stole them. Yet now she was standing on a good portion of those ships. "Incredible. Simply incredible." She dug deeper, slipping into a broken viewport and entering a transport bearing a plate that read THE HEART OF GOLD.

Dust and grime had accumulated within and made it difficult to breathe. Angela pulled up her collar for protection. It was dark within, for any energy feeding the onboard lights had long since been depleted. She unclipped her lightsaber and ignited it, filling the murky corridor with its green glow. Holding her weapon before her like a torch, she slowly made her way through, the feeling of history and forgotten lore weighing upon her shoulders.

She had read about the fabled misadventure that was the Outbound Flight project, heard about how it, after a fashion, haunted the early days of the New Republic in the form of the cloned Jorus C'baoth. But now she was walking in the real thing, the actual shell of the beleaguered project. It was overwhelming.

She made her way to the captain's study, found that she had to shoulder in the rusted door to enter. On a desk that was almost a century old, decayed and worn and broken by time, she found a datapad—and it was still operational. Angela shut off her lightsaber to prevent any accidents and let the faded glow of the computer screen fill the room.

She read the screen:

_Outbound Flight Master Computer (Captain's Terminal)_

_Further Information?_

So she had accessed _the_ supercomputer installed on the Outbound Flight project. According to the technical histories Master Skywalker had researched on it, the data interface was based on the question-and-answer method with very sophisticated algorithms. All she had to do was ask and she would, in theory, receive. "Hmm. Computer, bring up the last command given."

_Unrecognized Voice. Authorization?_

"Blaster bolts," she swore. Accessing the computer's files would not be as easy as she originally thought. Figures that theory never meets with practicality, she thought nastily, "Um, Jedi Knight Angela Marshair." The supercomputer should recognize any Jedi as an authorized user—a safety protocol in the event the project was lost. But again, it was a theoretical failsafe. The computer hummed as it processed that information.

_No Such Jedi Found In The Archives. Authorization?_

I'll try a different approach, she thought. "Jedi Master Jorus C'baoth." She prayed that the computer did not have voice recognition protocols.

_Authorization Successful._

"Bingo," she said triumphantly. "Bring up the last command given."

_Emergency Communications to Alderaan, Coruscant, and Dantooine. Message Recorded By Jedi Master Jorus C'baoth And Relayed To Captain Majett Of The Heart Of Gold._

"Interesting. Replay the message."

A scratchy voice played over the datapad's battered speakers. "This is Jedi Ma…er…C'baoth…abandon ship. We prom…we'll send…for you. This is an emer…cy distress signal on behalf the…_of Gold_ and the _Clust_…_ed Sun_."

_Communications End._

_Further Information?_

"So something happened to these ships, forcing C'baoth and the other Jedi Masters to leave the ships here," Angela summarized to herself. "The rest of Outbound Flight went on ahead, but sent a message to the Core Worlds and nearby settlements to send a rescue squad out here." She rested her hands on the desk. "Computer, what was this ship's status five minutes before this message was sent?"

_Ship's Log—The _Heart Of Gold_ Lost All Power To Shield Generators. Weapons Were Malfunctioning Due To Massive Ion Disruption. Hull Integrity Compromised By Class-A Hull Breach On Port Side._

_Further Information?_

"What caused the damage?"

_Unknown Weapon. Energy Signatures Match Those Of Class-A Nebular Electrical Storms._

_Further Information?_

An electrical storm would account for an excessive ion charge capable of knocking out both shields and weapons, but would it damage the hull? Angela was unsure; space meteorology was not one of her strong points. "Is there any record on the ship's sensors of a nebular electrical storm?"

_Negative._

Further Information? 

"No, that's all." Angela shut down the datapad and was left to ponder the implications of what she had learned.

She stretched out with the Force, hoping to find some remnant of the spirits of the Jedi Masters. Perhaps their souls had lingered here, where they might have met their deaths? It was a possibility to be explored. Her senses expanded, took in the entirety of the Metal Graveyard and then further outward. She encompassed the Lower Woodlands, from rock to tree.

She felt it. A lingering contamination, slick and oily, as if she were walking through sludge and breathing in smog. It made her retch. She reflexively cut off her extended senses before the toxic sensation could damage her further.

What the blazes was that? she wondered.

And that was when she heard Eve scream.


	5. Valley of the Force, Ch 5

**Chapter Five: Neglected Legacy**

Angela did not bother with finesse. Speed was all that mattered, so she literally carved her way out of the ship. Her lightsaber left molten slag behind her as she clambered up the refuse of the decaying vessel. Full night had fallen, casting eerie, ghostly shadowed into the pit, all of the murky blackness emphasized under the green glow of her weapon.

And the red glow of her foe's.

"Atropos!" she exclaimed in alarm, recognizing the black-shrouded figure standing before her. A tall and once-handsome Twi'lek, Atropos had fallen to the dark side believing that aggression was the only way to win the Yuuzhan Vong war. He lost his arms and legs as a result of his error, but his injuries only fueled his wrath. Hatred at the Yuuzhan Vong evolved into hatred of the crumbling, weak New Republic and the flimsy Federation that took its place. He even turned that hatred toward the Jedi Order that once harbored him. Now a monster stood where a good man once walked.

Atropos held Eve tightly in his cybernetic arm, his other mechanical limb keeping the red blade of his lightsaber near her slender throat. The dark Jedi glared knives at his Jedi enemy. "I see you survived the crash," he growled, rotten fangs flashing in the dim moonlight. "That is most excellent. I would be most annoyed if a simple thing like that robbed me of the pleasure of taking your life."

"Let the girl go," Angela demanded. How could I have let this happen? she berated herself silently. I shouldn't have let her stay by herself—not when Atropos was unaccounted for. "She's got nothing to do with this. Just let her go."

"I think not, Angie," the Twi'lek said in a deceptively caressing tone. He brought the blade a centimeter closer to Eve's skin, and the girl squirmed in fright. "You see, Angela Marshair, I came here looking for you, following you. But look what I found?"

His free hand grabbed Eve's and twisted it open. A green cube fell to the metal ruins. "A Jedi holocron!" Atropos announced gleefully. "An artifact containing the untold lore of the old Order. And indeed, look further! We stand upon the ruins of the infamous Outbound Flight! What glory days are before us, for we have found the holocron of an Outbound Flight Jedi Master."

"Atropos, please, let her go." If nothing else, Angela vowed to herself, I have to save Eve.

"Shut up!" he roared. "You chased me across half the galaxy, Marshair! You took out anyone who so much as _talked_ to me! _This_ is what you've driven me to do!"

"You consorted with dissidents, murderers, and crime lords, Atropos," she replied coldly, while thinking, Keep him talking, Angie, keep him from turning that blade on her…. "You wanted to cause sedition and bring down the Federation. And now you're blaming your own mistakes on me and an innocent girl."

"I swear I'll kill—" He never got a chance to finish his threat. Eve slipped her leading foot behind Atropos' and kicked out. The girl was stronger than the dark Jedi, having spent her entire life working the fields and exploring the Lower Woodlands; Atropos never had a chance to stop her. He fell, his lightsaber going wide, and suddenly she was free.

Angela watched in surprise as Eve kicked out her foot again, knocking the red-bladed lightsaber away, before summarily planting a heel against the dark Jedi's throat.

"An impressive display," the young Jedi praised. "There aren't many who would have dared to move like that against someone like him."

Eve shrugged nonchalantly. "Just because we're farmers doesn't mean we're helpless. We live near the Lower Woodlands, after all. So, what do you want to do with him?"

Suddenly, Atropos wrapped his hand around Eve's ankle and widened his eyes. The girl grunted as she was sent hurtling into the air by a burst of the Force. The dark Jedi hopped to his feet and called his weapon to his hand. Its blood-red blade sent shadows dancing across the metal ruins.

"Eve!" Angela cried, sparing a glance over her shoulder. She let out a sigh when she saw the girl regain her footing with a groan, though she seemed to favor her side. With Eve out of harm's way, the young Jedi focused her full attention on her opponent. She brought her lightsaber into a defensive stance. "We could have solved this in a much more peaceful way."

"Peace is a lie," Atropos growled, coming in fast and hard. But Angela was ready for him. The Twi'lek was a skilled swordsman, there was no doubt in Angela's mind about that, but she knew that his fighting style was deeply rooted in the Jedi tradition—a style that emphasized serenity. To fight in rage was to fight at half-strength. Atropos did not realize that he was digging his own grave. Angela did.

He made three passes, three blinding-fast assaults—but she foiled them all with careful, practiced defense routines. His blurring shape surrounded her and assailed her from every angle, seemingly all at once. But she turned ever so slowly, placing her weapon in just the right place to block. She was standing on a lone pillar of stone amidst a swirling and torrential river. But the stone did not yield to the raging water.

And then Atropos made his mistake. He stabbed for her midsection, which she sidestepped easily—and there was his error, for he had overextended himself, leaving no room to recover. Angela was all over him in a heartbeat. Her green blade seared through his sword-hand, cleaving the cybernetic prosthetic from the rest of his mechanical arm. His lightsaber went with it. A final kick to the backs of his knees had him on the ground, her blade warming his shoulder and neck.

But Atropos was not so easily defeated. He rolled forward, clearing her weapon's range, and came back to his feet. Perhaps he was going to try to choke her with the Force, or telekinetically throw something at her, or something equally violent and retributive. Angela did not give him the chance. As soon as he stood up, she threw a slab of steel at him, knocking the wind out of his lungs and his feet from the ground.

Angela knelt by the fallen dark Jedi and placed her fingers against his forehead. "He's dazed. That should give me the opportunity to freeze his mind."

"You'll what?" Eve sounded confused. She was holding her side gingerly.

"I'm going to put him into hibernation so that he won't be a bother." The Jedi closed her eyes and let the Force pour into Atropos, shutting down sensory receptors, modifying his pineal gland, quieting his mind. "There. He'll be asleep for a good long while now. Sorry about all this, Eve. I didn't mean to put you in danger."

The girl waved a dismissive hand. "That's all right. He didn't seem very tough, anyway." She spoke so casually that it made Angela laugh. Eventually, Eve joined in as well. "By the way, Angela, what did you do to him? I mean, it's like you used a spell or something. Are Jedi Knights sorcerers as well as warriors?"

"I guess you could say that. Here, let's find something to tie him up, just in case, and then let me look at that side of yours. And then I'll tell you all about the Force—the source of a Jedi's power."

* * *

Angela's hands felt warm and comfortable, and Eve relaxed as tendrils of healing caressed her aching side, mended the cracked bone and strained muscle. The fight with that…what did Angela call it? With the dark Jedi…left her shaken, despite her earlier bravado. She could tell because her fingers trembled slightly. She hoped that Angela did not notice.

"So this Force is just a really big energy field everyone is a part of," the girl summarized. A grin worked its way up her lips. "It's a pretty story and you delivered it better than that one story you told me."

Angela smiled back. "Story or not, you saw firsthand what can be done with it. Atropos used it to hurt you, I used it to throw something at him, and I used it to heal you. Speaking of which, I'm done here. You'll feel a bit sore for a while, but that's only because the Force accelerates your natural healing speed. It taxes the body to repair itself."

"Then I'd better stay off my feet for a little while," Eve surmised. She tried stretching out her flank. It felt taught, hard, and stiff. A groan escaped her lips. "Oh, that feels weird. So, who's this Atropos fellow and what did he do to earn the enmity of the Jedi?"

"A few years ago, my people fought in a war. The Jedi were divided about the conflict, because some of us wanted to be passive, reactive defenders while others wanted to be more aggressive. To a Jedi, aggression is equated with anger, hatred, and other negative emotions that can draw us to the dark side of the Force—the Force's evil aspect. Atropos was one of the aggressors, and surrendered to his hatred as a result.

"He hated the invaders who destroyed his people, raped his lands, and left him a broken an angry man. But when the war ended, his hatred turned to the governments, who he saw as weak and corrupt, who allowed the war to drag out longer than it should have. Finally, he turned his anger on his fellow Jedi for trying to suppress his hatred. This is the result of all that anger."

Eve hugged her legs to her chest, listening raptly to every word. She felt a chill course down her spine. "He sounds like a very evil man. I didn't think such hatred could exist. Everyone in my village is open, kind-hearted—nothing at all like Atropos. Arguments are settled up front before the magistrates or my Papa."

"Your village is a very nice place, Eve. Cherish it, because there are few places like it. But Atropos didn't start out evil. He turned to hatred because he wanted to help people. I know it sounds strange, but there is a saying among my people: the road to hell is paved with good intentions."

Eve nodded in understanding. "We have a saying, too: the purest spring can become brackish."

Angela nodded and they were silent for a long while, simply listening to Atropos' soft breathing and the chattering of the forest's night creatures. Finally, Angela asked, "Where's that crystal you found?"

"Oh, right here." Eve picked it up off the ground and handed it to her. Even as it left her touch, she felt the lingering warmth of the cube's surfaces. The chimera of visions danced at the edge of memory, at the edge of consciousness, but vanished when the crystal passed to Angela. "Will it be of use to you?"

"Perhaps. I have to study it."

Eve shifted her weight around nervously. "Um, it's against taboo to take anything away from the pit. They say there's a curse. I don't believe in it personally, at least, not until you came and showed me these wondrous things that you could do with the Force. Now, I think there may be something to the curse."

"Curse, huh? What happens?"

"Well, the legends say that this is unholy ground and that the spirits of the dead will rise if you steal their belongings. What happens to you is the prerogative of the dead."

Angela was thoughtful, her eyes narrowing as she tussled with a thought. "Eve, I might be here a while."

"That's all right. I'll wait. I can explore some more. Atropos will still be unconscious, right? So I won't have to worry."

She stood up, brushed off her bottom of her tunic, and started poking around. She was strangely at peace, despite those terrifying moments in Atropos' clutches. Perhaps it was her dauntless courage, honed from months of exploring the depths of the Lower Woodlands, or maybe it was simply Angela's collected, professional aura that settled the girl's nerves. But Eve did not feel at all frightened now that the debacle was over.

So she went about her explorations with the same innocent gusto she always did. Hours passed and night slowly gave way to day, but Eve, ever the energetic adventurer, barely felt the passing of time. She was glad for the light, though, for it glimmered on a glass cylinder she never noticed before. It was taller than she was and about twice her girth around, with ribbed cables coming out of the top and bottom.

She ran her hands against the smooth, unbroken glass surface, mesmerized by its fine construction. She had never seen anything like it—no glassblower in the village could produce anything like this. Curiosity arrested her in its grasp and she pushed aside pieces of debris with eager relish. Her efforts bore fruit, for she found four more of the strange, man-sized cylinders beneath. All of them were in near-mint condition, miraculously undamaged by time.

"Eve?" she heard Angela call out. "Where did you get off to?"

"I'm over here, Angela. Come look at this!"

Angela's booted feet crunched over metal, a garish sound that cut the stillness of the morning air like a knife. "What did you—by the Core Worlds!"

Eve looked at the Jedi in surprise, noting the abject terror in her voice, a fear clearly painted on her face. "What is it?" she asked. "Do you know what these glass things are?"

Angela nodded stiffly, her face white and her lips ashen. "I do know what they are, Eve. Those are Spaarti cloning cylinders."


	6. Valley of the Force, Ch 6

**Chapter Six: Student**

No matter what Jedi calming techniques she used or how hard she forced herself to breathe calmly, Angela could not stop her hands from trembling. Her examinations had been thorough and unearthed more questions than answers.

Spaarti cloning cylinders—post-Clone War make. But how was that possible? she asked herself. The ill-fated Outbound Flight project left before the Clone Wars broke out, before the Spaarti-class cloning facilities were constructed. How did such devices get on board a ship _before they were even made_?

The obvious answer was that the Outbound Flight ships were all fakes. Angela spent the next several hours going through any available computer logs that remained intact. She checked serial numbers on hull plates, examined residual energy signatures from the engines, anything that could be used to verify the identities of the ships. As far as she could tell, given her limited access to the project's details, she was indeed standing upon the remains of the Outbound Flight.

"But that just doesn't make any sense," she grunted in frustration.

A gentle tap on her shoulder brought her out of her reverie. Eve waved a hand at her, smiling weakly. "We should head back, Angela," she said, jerking her thumb toward the woods. "It's almost midday and I didn't bring enough food for a longer sojourn."

Angela blushed in embarrassment; she had not realized just how long they had been at the Metal Graveyard. "My apologies, Eve. Yes, let's go back. Can you find some more cables? I'm going to make sure that Atropos doesn't get any funny ideas."

They hiked back through the Lower Woodlands with Angela carrying the comatose Atropos on her back. The dark Jedi's lightsaber hung from her belt, a trophy of war. The Twi'lek was heavy, but Angela did not mind. She subtly channeled the Force into her limbs and lungs, giving her strength and endurance far beyond what a woman of her height and build would have.

She noticed Eve watching her with awe, clearly surprised by her seemingly superhuman strength. It brought a laugh out of the young Jedi. "Just one more trick of the Force," she explained, drawing an understanding nod from the girl. Angela felt this was good a time as any to broach a delicate subject. "Eve, I noticed the way you…communicate with the land and its denizens. I think you may be Force-sensitive—that you may be able to use the Force. It would account for your powers."

"Really? Does this mean I can become a Jedi?" The girl's eyes were wide with wonder, but also wary. Angela wondered why, so she stretched out with the Force, intending to read her surface thoughts. The reason for the girl's wariness was simpler than the Jedi had thought—it was just the uncertainty of learning something so abstractly new, something she did not wholly comprehend.

Angela decided to alleviate some of the girl's fears. "Maybe, maybe not. Being a Jedi requires a lot of commitment, Eve. Not everyone can handle it. You have to give up your life to help others." She felt fear radiate from the girl in waves, and this time Angela knew exactly why she felt that way: she was afraid to leave her village.

Angela smiled warmly. "But you were born and raised here, surrounded by all these people who care for you. I don't think you'd be a good Jedi in the sense that you'd travel all over the place protecting complete strangers. But maybe I can teach you how to protect your people."

"We are a close-knit people," Eve said proudly. "If anyone gets in trouble, everyone else helps them out of it. It is how we protect each other. Can a single Jedi do more than that?"

"Not alone, no. But imagine how formidable you would be, how much more you can do to help your family, if you learned some of the techniques of the Jedi."

"I will…think about it." The girl went silent after that, and they walked back to the village without another word, leaving Angela to her thoughts.

The Jedi wished she did not have to think about them.

Spaarti cloning cylinders in Outbound Flight ships…made before their time. What in all the Core Worlds is going on here? she wondered.

She continued to ponder the mystery even after their return to the village. The villagers were alarmed at the bound and comatose prisoner they brought, but Angela explained things and told of how Atropos sought her life and even threatened young Eve. The villagers were particularly incensed about the latter misdemeanor and unceremoniously tossed the unconscious dark Jedi into an abandoned mill.

Angela and Eve went back to the tower. Suddenly, the girl tugged her on sleeve. "What's wrong?" the Jedi asked.

Eve looked uncertain, almost frightened. "You kept the crystal didn't you? The holocron?" It sounded like she hoped the answer would be no.

Angela nodded. "It's in my belt pouch. I know about the curse, Eve, but I assure you, there's probably no basis in it. Holocrons are prized relics among the Jedi and Jedi Knights once piloted those ships. They are good people, so if they do show up, it won't be to kill anyone. I'm certain of that."

The girl did not look convinced, but Angela felt her trust and acquiescence in the Force. "Could I watch you work with the holocron?" Eve asked. "I think I'd like to learn how you Jedi do things."

The smile that turned Angela's lips took in her ears. "Of course. Come on, I'll show you how to operate a holocron. You're not too tired?"

The girl shook her head gaily. "Not at all."

They soon nestled themselves in Eve's room, sitting cross-legged on the stone floor opposite each other. Eve looked on in rapt attention and childlike wonder as Angela took up the crystalline cube. She turned its facets this way and that, letting the sunlight pouring through the window play against its surfaces.

Ghostly patterns danced along the walls and ceiling. Angela thought she recognized some of them. The shadowy hilt of a lightsaber, a whisking flap of brown robes, the white under-tunic of a Jedi, the blue-glow of a Jedi tutor. The knowledge stored on the holocron paraded across the stones, given an eerie, yet serene and calming, substitute for life. The effect was mesmerizing.

Angela found herself lost in the play of lore. She saw the lessons Ran Tonno-Skeve had taught her long ago, when she first started training, when she knew nothing more of the Jedi ways than any normal girl.

There were practical lessons: the use of a lightsaber, the forms of Jedi combat styles, using the Force to strengthen the body, to revitalize the self, to levitate and throw objects. She recalled mastering those techniques with ease. Ran said she had the mindset for them.

Those initial instructions evolved into more expansive lore: drawing upon the Force to move faster and strike more accurately, drawing upon the Force to bend a mind to her will, to craft illusions and to cloud perceptions, to sense the living Force and the denizens that inhabited it. She grew into a larger universe with those teachings.

There were theoretical lessons: the history of the Jedi, the purpose of the Jedi, the role of the Jedi in the galaxy. Protectors, not warriors; caretakers, not administrators. She was taught the Jedi Code, but Ran never followed its letter. Always, he taught passion—use passion like the Force, and, as with the Force, respect passion and keep it in balance with sense and moderation.

The other Jedi had disagreed with Ran, but Angela did not. She embraced her Master's personal code and made it into her own. She tried to obey its precepts, tried to prevent passion from controlling her. She liked to think she succeeded. It was her fuel, the source of her drive beyond simple duty and responsibility to the galaxy.

The holocron contained nothing of this, though. It condemned Ran's beliefs as the way to the dark side. Angela ignored those warnings. The holocron was old, contained vast amounts of information and lore, but it did not know Ran Tonno-Skeve or Angela Marshair. It had no right to judge them.

Angela turned the holocron in her hand again. The ghostly image of a long-dead Jedi Master floated above it. "I am Master Tobias Remard," the image said, the opening line of instruction. "I am the gatekeeper of this archive. I am in charge of Force techniques on the basic and intermediate levels."

Angela saw Eve's eyes widen in greater astonishment as the hologram continued to speak. From what the young Jedi had seen of the girl's village, holos were practically magic to them. Remard continued, "We shall begin instruction on the most rudimentary of Force skills—becoming aware of the Force around you."

And the lessons began.

* * *

Eve spent the remainder of the day in her room, absorbing the lessons the holocron imparted, listening rapturously to every word and explanation that came across Angela's lips. There was so much the girl had never known—the Force really _was_ all around her, and simply knowing that made her feel a part of something grander and all-encompassing.

Though she had never been truly alone, surrounded as she was by her fellow villagers, she was suddenly _aware_ that she was never alone on a level beyond crude consciousness. The villagers glowed in her awareness like bright balls of torchlight in the night. Fireflies and birds flittered hither and thither, glowing and singing, and Eve could find them just by sensing the signs of life around her. Everything was in her mind—rock, tree, and creature.

She gasped at the sight.

Suddenly, she was caught up in the undercurrent of a monstrous river, frightening in its intensity, grim in its power. Foundering, lost, drowning, she flailed her arms wildly, trying to break the surface, trying desperately to breathe. The churning waters of the life and the living Force closed up around her, crushed her, devoured her. Fear clawed its way into her heart.

She felt a strong hand grasp her own, squeeze tightly, and guide her to the surface. Her awareness of the universe faded away, and she was simply sitting in her room. Perspiration ran down her face and soaked her tunic. Her breaths came in hard gasps.

"Easy, easy," Angela told her soothingly, again squeezing her hand. It was her hand that had grasped Eve's. "You took quite a dive there, Eve. Let's take it one step at a time, okay?"

"What…what was that?" Eve asked breathlessly, still taken by the sheer intensity of the experience.

"You touched the living Force," the Jedi explained. "You saw the how every living thing was connected to everything else. You saw that you were just a speck in the vastness of the Force, but you also saw that even the tiniest speck is important."

"It was amazing," the girl whispered, though she knew in her heart that those simple words—any words—would never be able to describe what she had felt, would never do it justice. In a way, it was sad. But she had experienced the totality of life in an instant. She had nothing to be sad about.

"You seem to have an affinity for sensing the Force," Angela noted. "When my own Master tried to teach me these lessons, he didn't have the luxury of using a holocron as a teaching aide. But even if he did, I don't think I would have mastered the basics as quickly as you did.

"You have a gift for feeling the living Force, Eve. It may be a consequence of your journeys into the Lower Woodlands, where you were surrounded by life and energy. It may have made you especially sensitive to the ebb and flow of the Force."

Eve nodded, understanding coming into her eyes. She did not fully comprehend the Force or the Jedi, not yet, but she instinctually knew that what Angela said was true. There was a resonation in her heart when she heard the Jedi say those words, a unification of words and feelings that meant they were truth.

"It was so complex," Eve said in awe. "Everything was there, just like you said, and I could feel it all."

"It only seems complex at first," Angela said. "With training and experience, you'll see that the Force is really a very simple thing. Complex, but simple; all-encompassing, yet also localizing. You are aware of all that is and was, but your attention should be on what is before you."

"That's kind of confusing."

The Jedi laughed. "Believe me, I know where you're coming from. But if you practice, you'll see that it's true. Don't worry, you'll learn."

Eve looked at the glowing holocron in Angela's hands. "What else should I learn? What else can I do with the Force and the powers I have?"

"Well, let's see what else is on this little crystal, shall we?" The Jedi turned the cube around. Master Remard's image faded, to be replaced by another teacher. "This one I recognize," Angela said. "Jedi Master Bester, known for his specialty in illusions. A bit different than what you just did, but it follows nonetheless. You now know how to sense the Force in all things. Now you're going to learn how to use the Force on others."

Eve nodded strongly. "I'm ready to learn, Angela."

"Good."

And so it went. They spent the hours in study, Angela as teacher and Eve as learner. The inquisitive girl absorbed the lessons with surprising aptness and skill. She was not master of the rudiments by any means, save her facility with sensing the living Force, but she understood the concepts. In time, she somehow knew, she would become adept with the skills she learned. Now that she knew the basics, all she needed was practice.

The lessons continued well into the next day. Exhaustion from two days of work had taken a heavy toll on Angela, and she retired to her bed around noon. But Eve was charged with excitement and curiosity. She simply did not feel fatigue—another of those little Force techniques she had quickly skimmed over.

The Force and its vibrant energies surged through her and it felt like a rushing wave at her beck and call. Intoxicated with its power, she laughed and spun in happiness as she felt every living thing once more in her consciousness. So aware was she of the universe that she glowed with joyful disbelief—was there no limit to the power of the Force?

She lifted a chair with a thought, set it down, and then picked up a spare tunic. The cloth bounced and twirled as if alive, and she danced merrily with it, clutching at its sleeves as if holding the hands of a lover.

She made a lot of noise.

She continued her play even after the door unexpectedly opened. Her father stepped in, undoubtedly perturbed by the commotion she was making, and let out a strangled gasp of surprise.

"What sorcery is this?" he wondered aloud, shocked at the display before him.

Eve stopped her dance and turned to her father. The tunic fell lifelessly to the floor. "Papa!" she cried merrily, "Angela taught me the most wonderful things! It's beautiful, Papa—really, really beautiful. I can feel the world around me. I can make things move. I can hear, smell, and see everything. I can hear the morning sparrows singing their songs in the Upper Woodlands. I can feel the wind blowing against the trees. I can smell the flowers as they come into morning bloom. It's beautiful."

Her father's visage remained stony, hard, distant. "What is this, Eve? You are learning magic from the Jedi?"

"It isn't magic, Papa. It's the Force—and everything is in it, you included. I can feel you in my mind." She smiled winsomely. "You're very confused and you're trying to make sense out of what I'm talking about. But you know what, Papa? You don't have to. Here, take my hand. I can show you what I mean."

She felt her father's hesitation, his doubt. And something else—a sensation she never expected from her father: Fear. Of her.

"Papa?" she whispered, realization dawning on her. "Why are you afraid of me?"

When her father answered, he did so reluctantly. He sounded like he was poking at a painful old wound, one that had never fully healed. "Your mother spoke like that, shortly before you were born. I never heard her speak so before. It frightened me—it frightened us all—when she started talking about what was in our minds. She knew our secrets, knew exactly what we were thinking. We were afraid of her. Even me, her husband." The guilt in his voice hit Eve like a hammer.

"She never went out of the tower after that," he continued in low tones. "She would just sit in her room and talk more and more about the things she was feeling. The medicine woman thought she was ill of some alien poison from the Lower Woodlands. But it was not so. Somehow, I knew that she had truly been hearing the world's words, the winds' words, and the words that no villager wanted to speak aloud.

"Your mother died in childbirth, this you know. But what you do not know is what she said right before she died. She said that she told you never to be afraid. She said these things to you without ever opening her mouth, before you were even aware of what was going on around your newborn eyes."

Eve felt tears run down her cheeks. "Papa…my mother was Force-sensitive, like me." She hugged her father around his thick waist. But he did not return the hug. The knowledge of that fact made her heart cold and she gripped him harder. "It's not evil or wicked or strange for me to feel these things, Papa! Please understand that. Angela is a Jedi—she can teach me to control my powers, to use them responsibly. I won't read people's minds if they don't want me to, I promise.

"Don't you see, Papa? Don't you get it? I can walk through the Lower Woodlands as part of the forest, as a friend. The animals don't hurt me because I can feel and talk to them. It's how Angela figured out what I am. I have a gift. I can use it to help people, to heal our friends if they're hurt, to make them laugh when they're sad. I can do things no one else can, Papa. And that's a beautiful thing. It's what Jedi are supposed to do."

Her father said nothing, but his gaze grew more and more distant. He still did not return her embrace. "We will discuss this later, my daughter," he said neutrally. With that, he coolly disengaged himself from her and left the room.


	7. Valley of the Force, Ch 7

**Chapter Seven: Ghosts of the Past**

Angela received a rude awakening the next day. A massive man burst into her room. He practically radiated anger, outrage, and fear.

Though surprised, she hid well her discomfiture, maintaining a calm exterior. She studied her visitor's face, recognized some of the hard lines and imagined them softer, younger. "You're Eve's father," she said simply.

The man nodded stiffly. "I am King Jeb, lord of the valley. You must be Angela Marshair, the Jedi Knight I have heard so much about." He spoke her title with such vitriol that it was shocking.

"I am," Angela confirmed, keeping hold of her Jedi calm. "I wonder why we haven't met?"

"I was visiting some of the outlying villages," he explained tersely. "My duties as lord of the region take me far afield."

"That would explain your rudeness," she said sharply. "I was under the impression that the people of the valley were kindly and compassionate. I find it odd that their king is held to lower standards."

"Don't presume, young woman," the king growled. "I come here not as a ruler, but as a father. I saw the results of your teachings. I will have none of it. You will cease tutoring my daughter in your sorcery."

Angela grimaced. "So that's what this is about. Why are you afraid of her, King Jeb? This is her destiny."

"It took her mother's life!" he retorted angrily. She could hear all the bitterness and sorrow in his pained voice. "I will not have it consume my only child!"

"I knew nothing of that," she said, "but I swear to you that the Jedi ways are not evil. Eve's mother probably didn't have any training. With training, with an instructor, she could have been taught to control her powers—like I'm teaching Eve right now."

"You will stop."

"No. Don't you understand? She'll be more dangerous to you and everyone else if she doesn't finish her training. She would have discovered her powers eventually—she already has—but if I remain at her side, showing her how to use her abilities responsibly, she can be groomed into a protector of your people."

"Our people care for our own, outsider. We need no help from you."

"Then do it for Eve's sake. Let her learn to become what she has to be. It is the will of the Force."

"Your Force brought my family nothing but tragedy."

Angela shook her head. "You do not understand the Force, King Jeb. It isn't evil unless you use it for evil. I want to show Eve how to use it for good."

The king pointed a hard finger at her, an accusing finger. "It is you who do not understand. I spoke with the villagers and with Eve. I know you went into the heart of the Lower Woodlands. I know what you found—artifacts from the past, when the Jedi were strong. You made the assumption that we know nothing of the Force and the Jedi. For most, this would be correct. But not with me. I _know_."

Angela was taken aback. "Explain," she said curtly. If what King Jeb said was true, then just how much did he know about the Outbound Flight crash site? Did he have the missing piece to the Spaarti cylinder puzzle?

"Decades ago," the king rumbled, "there came a shooting star from the great heavens. They crashed in the Lower Woodlands, which were vital and welcoming in those bygone days. We found survivors amidst the fires and twisted husks of the great metal beasts they called 'starships.' Three men, dressed in alien raiment. They called themselves Jedi Masters, protectors of peace and justice.

"They lived with us for many months and became one with our village. We trusted them and they, us. But then came the betrayal. One of the Jedi Masters savagely murdered his fellows and fled into the Lower Woodlands. Wherever he went, he brought darkness and poison with him. The forest that we once depended on became a vicious jungle of death.

"We never saw the Jedi Master again, but this grisly tale is told to every ruler of the valley, that we may be alert for the return of his evil. You are a Jedi Knight, Angela Marshair, and you, too, can become as evil as that long ago villain."

Angela was subdued by his saga. A Jedi Master—the pinnacle of training and wisdom—corrupted to the dark side. The thought chilled her to the bone. "And you fear that if I train your daughter, she would turn as well. King Jeb, that is folly. She may turn with or without my help. If I teach her, I can at least warn her of the dangers."

He made a cutting gesture with his thick hand. "I won't hear any more of your insolence, Jedi. I have heard the lore of my people and I saw your vaunted Force take my wife from me. I will _not_ let it claim my daughter."

He turned from her and went to the doorway. "I will allow you to remain here, at least until you can figure out a way to leave our world. If you cannot, you must swear to never again use your Jedi magic, or I will have you exiled to the Lower Woodlands. Above all—you will not teach my daughter any more of your Jedi lore. She is the princess of the valley, not a Jedi Knight." With that, the king slammed the door shut.

Left to her own devices, Angela poured over the confrontation in her mind. Much had been revealed, much of great import, but many more questions had arisen. An inkling in the Force hinted that the dark Jedi Master was somehow related to the mysterious cloning cylinders—but the exact relationship remained shrouded to her eyes.

Unbidden, she recalled the legend Eve told her about the Metal Graveyard. The dead would rise if any item of theirs was taken away. Angela steeled herself and girded her tunic and lightsaber. She took meticulous care in pocketing the holocron, ensuring that it was secure in her belt pouch. Perhaps it was her own ingenuity or perhaps it was the Force, but she somehow knew that if she were to solve the mystery of the Outbound Flight, she had to confront its demons.

She had to return to the Metal Graveyard.

I can't let Eve lead me this time, she thought. The poor girl's already in enough trouble because of me. All right, I'll just have to remember everything Ran taught me about wilderness survival.

But first, there were preparations to make. She thought back to her last visit to the Metal Graveyard, and, specifically, to the odd sensation she felt there. Ghosts, poison, Outbound Flight…she could only think of one correlation: a Force spirit. If the spirit in question were that of a dark side entity, as she suspected, then she would need weapons to fight it with.

She looked to the holocron for her armory. She spent almost two hours searching through its memory core, hunting down anything pertinent. When she closed the holocron and tucked it back into her pouch, she felt confident that she could handle whatever lingered at the Metal Graveyard.

She made her way out of the village and into the Lower Woodlands. The darkness of the place—even in midday—still chilled her. It was like some monstrous maw closing around her, trapping her in its moist, hot, black cavity. The sensation, she surmised, was similar to waiting for a throat to swallow its food. Angela suppressed a shudder and concentrated on the task at hand.

Hours passed as she pressed deeper into the forest. The sounds of living predators surrounded her at every turn, but she ignored the reflexive fear she felt as their eyes roamed over her. A Jedi did not know fear, she quietly reminded herself. A Jedi only knows and trusts in the Force. She calmed her mind by falling into a "walking meditative trance" that Ran once showed her. Her nerves settled, the cold sweat of fear evaporated from her neck, her heart stopped running at a light-year a minute.

She floated in a psychic limbo, passively reaching out into the Force. The Lower Woodlands glowed all around her, filled with energy and life. The predators and denizens—from the smallest grub to the largest bear—moved in her awareness. She knew their thoughts, their instincts, and their actions before they took it.

When the forest cat leaped at her, she already knew it was coming and took measures to protect herself. The feline was beautiful: a sleek leaf-green coat striped with black, muscled flanks, padding, confident gait. It eyed her hungrily, teeth bared. But Angela felt only serenity—not a hint of panic entered her heart or slowed her movements. The cat pounced again, but she sidestepped it easily. She raised a hand, turning her palm toward the animal.

"Calm, be calm," she said soothingly, lacing her voice and words with the persuasive power of the Force. The cat was not a sentient, reasoning creature, but that only made it more susceptible to her machinations. Its eyes glazed over, watching her out of curiosity rather than hunger.

She took a bit of dried beef from her belt pouch, a leftover bit of food ration. "Here," she offered kindly. "It isn't much, but it will tide you over until you find something else to eat." The cat lapped up the proffered meat and then licked her hand. "You're really a beautiful cat," she said admiringly, patting its coat once before continuing on.

Fortunately, she crossed no other hungry beasts the rest of the day. She reached the Metal Graveyard just as the sun dipped below the canopy, plunging the pit into twilight.

Standing atop the metal ruins was a man framed in a garish red glow. Black smoke seemed to rise from where he stood, making the crimson light play like blood across his face. Angela clambered down to the pit and joined him, standing no more than a few meters from his hard face.

He looked pained, old, haggard. Lines of despair warred with eyes burning with frustration and hate. Those yellow orbs seemed to glow with their own polluted light. It made Angela think of some jaundiced patients in a sick ward she once visited.

"You must be the Jedi Master that killed his fellows," Angela said. She held out the holocron. "And this must belong to you or one of your former comrades."

"You are very perceptive," the ghost said. Angela thought she heard venom in his voice, but he seemed more…exhausted.

"Not really," the young Jedi countered. "I was told that the dead haunt whoever steals from them. When last I was here, I felt you—your dark side essence. I just put two and two together. Now," she strode up to the specter without fear, "I want some answers. You are no Jedi Master, that is clear—no true Master would fall so, or kill his peers. Who are you?"

The ghost sneered and flashed rotting teeth. "You have no power over me, Jedi."

"You think so?" She raised her hand, palm up, and then slowly curled her fingers into a fist. The ghost lurched and clutched at his abdomen as if extraordinary agony. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

"I've studied the holocron, spirit," Angela explained calmly. "It's amazing what the Jedi of the old Order knew. Specifically, a technique like this, one they called 'Force light.' Apparently, it can purge the dark side's taint from a place, including any dark side spirits that might be haunting it."

She opened her hand, giving the ghost a moment to recover, and then closed it again. The specter howled this time, and its bloodcurdling scream shook even Angela's steely nerve. She had prepared herself for this confrontation, but still the sound stole the verve from her heart, made her lose a bit of her determination in walking this road. How could such a sound exist? It was full of evil, but full of human pain, too.

Angela finally opened her hand, releasing the ghost from her power. "Now that we understand each other," she said through stiff lips, struggling to maintain her poise and calm, "you're going to answer some questions for me."

"And then what will you do?" the ghost growled hatefully, agony tearing new lines into his face. "Torture me more? Inflict yet more pain upon my twisted, black soul?"

"I'm going to release you," she said, shocking the ghost to silence. She continued, "Whatever you are, I can see that you regret your actions. Yet you cling to your hatred and anger because you feel wronged and bitter about what you did. That much is apparent in the way you hold yourself and in the Force. Help me and I'll help you let go. And then you can finally rest."

The ghost seemed distrustful at first, but finally sighed. "Ask your questions."

Angela smiled, reveling in her victory. "Firstly, who are you?"

"I was known as Jedi Master Quaal Fermin, but my true name is Bloodgrieve. I was an agent of Senator Palpatine."

Angela nodded, taking in the revelation expressionlessly. "I expected his involvement when I saw the Spaarti cylinders," she said. "I suspect that you were sent to assassinate the Jedi Masters on the Outbound Flight ships. My next question—why did Palpatine send an assassin if the project was supposed to fly into Grand Admiral Thrawn's people?"

The ghost looked confused. "I do not know what you speak of."

Angela clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Of course you do. The project was destroyed by the man who would become Grand Admiral Thrawn. He didn't want Republic outsiders creeping into his territory in the Unknown Regions."

"No, that is not what I meant. I was not sent to assassinate anyone. I was sent to obtain DNA samples. After taking them, my next objective was to divert a few shuttles from the main flight group, kill the pilots, take over, and return to Senator Palpatine's side on Coruscant."

"DNA samples," Angela breathed, suddenly realizing what the mission was. "You were supposed to clone the Jedi Masters, weren't you? Palpatine wanted strong, experienced Force-users on his side when he made his bid for power. And the Spaarti cylinders? Why were they onboard? How come they existed before the Clone Wars broke out?"

"Palpatine already had the prototype cylinders built by the time the Outbound Flight project took wing," the ghost answered. "They were hidden on the ships so that I could begin cloning the Masters. These cylinders were designed with neural suppressors, to prevent the clones' brainwaves from functioning properly while inside. This kept the Jedi Masters from sensing the clones' presence during flight."

"But why take the risk?" Angela pressed. "Why would Palpatine bother making clones while the originals were still nearby?"

"Palpatine believed that by making the clones so far away from the hub of the galaxy, there would be little interference from the Force. He knew that the Force was disturbed by the presence of clones created through the Spaarti process. As a result, most Spaarti clones were mentally unstable. This was the only solution he could think of to reduce the chance of instability."

"Palpatine thought of everything," she mused. "So, why did you start going on a rampage here? Why did these ships break away from the main flight group?"

The ghost looked down, suddenly seeming very, very tired. "I, too, am a clone. I was one of Palpatine's first Force-using clones, the first of a new breed of soldier. But I was flawed, for I, too, fell to the mental instability that plagues those created by the Spaarti process."

"So in a fit of madness you crashed these ships on this world. Later, you completely lost it and killed everyone," she summarized.

"Yes."

Angela leaned in close to the ghost's hazy visage. A knowing gleam crept into her eyes. "There's something else, isn't there?" She looked around the pit, noted the slag and dismembered remains of the glorious starships…and the cloning cylinders housed within their shattered hulls. "How many clones did you make? How many survived?"

The ghost was compelled to answer, for the young Jedi held its soul in her power. "Four survived the crash, but only one yet lives. Maddened, forgotten, it is _his_ terror and frustration and uncertainties that pollute this wood."

"Really now? Unusual. My first guess would be that your dark side essence was the cause of this mess."

"My influence extends only to this pit, no further. The clone's power is greater than mine, and his influence is yet greater."

Angela set her hands on her hips. "Well, I can't let that continue. This forest needs to be purified. People fear it, but it is rife with resources and land that they can use. So why don't you tell me where this clone is hiding and I'll let you go?"

"He hides in a castle of earth and wood only a league south of here. Seek him and destroy him, if you wish. Or learn from him, for though insane, he yet retains the knowledge of his progenitor."

"How so?" Angela pressed. "Did you use flash-learning technology?"

The ghost shook its head. "The programming was incomplete, untested. It was not used. Instead, one of my abilities was to replicate the mind of the original within the clone by using the Force. A difficult and esoteric technique, and crude and painful to both caster and recipient, but it is effective."

Those glowing yellow eyes bored into hers, seeking the promise she made. "Now I have told you all I know. Now release me. Let me finally be free of this place."

Angela nodded. "A deal is a deal," she said solemnly. "I release you." She closed her hand into a fist once more, and the dark side spirit vanished, leaving her alone amidst the ruins of dreams and hopes. She looked around sadly. Many had believed in the Outbound Flight. They wanted to expand the territory of the Old Republic. They wanted to learn what lay beyond the Outer Rim. But Palpatine corrupted even that.

"At least Eve can carry any treasure she finds out of this dump," she murmured. But the thought gave her little comfort.

When she turned to continue on her journey, she found Eve waiting for her at the lip of the pit.

* * *

"How much did you see?" Angela asked.

Eve smirked. "About everything. I didn't understand much, but I know it was important to you. The only part I really understood was that there's no longer a curse here."

The girl had left the tower after she noticed the Jedi sneaking out earlier that evening. Being far more accomplished at woodcraft than Angela, Eve found it a simple matter to trail her to the Metal Graveyard undetected.

The Jedi looked at her and then through her, her gaze going to the woods beyond. Eve understood what this meant and said, "I want to help you."

Angela shook her head. "I can't let you do that. You've only begun your training. Only a fully-trained Jedi can handle something like this."

Eve pouted, insulted. "I know these lands better than anyone alive," she declared proudly, pounding her chest for emphasis. "I know the land and the animals and where you can get food and water. You wouldn't survive a day out there, looking for this Jedi Master."

"The Force is my ally," Angela replied smoothly. "I will be all right. Besides, I wouldn't want to put you in needless danger."

"I know that Papa told you about my mother," the girl said softly. She saw Angela stop. She continued, "I promise that that won't happen. What you've shown me is a whole universe of possibilities, Angela. Let me repay you for what you've given me. And besides, this is my home—a Jedi protects, and what is more important than to protect your home and family?"

She walked down into the pit and, on impulse, took up Angela's hands, squeezing them tightly. "Please, let me help. If I can make this forest beautiful again, that'll be everything I could ever want."

Angela looked uncertain, afraid for her…and her safety. "A Jedi Master is no simple animal that you can calm with a word," she said at last, "but it may be the will of the Force that you are so adept at speaking with the animals and trees. Stay close to me, mind my actions, and you can come."

Eve smiled broadly, joy lighting in her bright eyes. "I won't let you down, Angela. I promise."

They headed into the forest, slowly making their way southward. The foliage was thicker than normal and the press of life was almost overwhelming. Everywhere they turned, they could hear the baying of predators and the chatter of insects. The smell of dung and sweat and trees was cloying, oppressive, haunting. Even Eve, who spent all her life around such stimuli, was disturbed.

"I've actually never been this far south," she admitted, licking dry lips. "Everything looks…well…different. Like those vines over there—you don't see anything like that near our village. Looks like they have eyes or something."

"Those are eyes, Eve," Angela affirmed in wary tones.

The girl swallowed hard. "Let's hope it doesn't have a mouth. That ghost said that this Jedi Master lived in a castle of earth and wood." She pointed to the east. "There's a river up north that curls that way. Our village uses it for washing. If you look this way from the mountains, you can see a pillar of rock with a few trees growing on it. I guess that would be where the castle is."

"It's worth a look."

They pressed onward. The predators became more vicious, more aggressive. Eve was hard-pressed to calm them when they approached. Sweat beaded on her brow every time a cat or a hound or a bear growled their way. The Force flowed through her in waves, but she only barely managed to turn away the animals each time. Eve grew increasingly more worried, fearing that her power over the forest creatures would not be enough to help.

Angela patted her shoulder. "Hey, don't get discouraged," she said suddenly, breaking Eve from her self-pity. "You're doing the best you can and it's a damn shade more than what I can do. The Jedi Master's influence is very strong here. I can feel it. He's probably trying to block your ability."

Eve pouted. "That's not fair at all," she groused.

"No, but it makes sense. Your powers over nature make you very formidable."

The girl brightened a bit by the older Jedi's praise, and she pointed toward the east with renewed verve. "We have about a half hour's walk left. We'll be there in no time at all."

Her estimation held true, and they stood before the castle. A pillar of rock, possibly a leftover relic from a bygone earthquake, stabbed into the sky like a deadly knife. There were no trees growing around it, leaving an empty barren clearing around it. But twisted perversions of oaks grew on the pillar itself like spindly thorns, giving the rock the look of a barbed arrowhead.

Eve felt cold fear chill her soul. There was no reason for the sensation, for there was nothing frightening before her, but still she felt it. She could not move, could not breathe. She could only stand there and look upon the castle with growing terror.

She noticed that Angela's fingers trembled as well, her jaw locked tight to keep from chattering her teeth. The Jedi said grimly, "This is the dark side we're feeling. It is very strong here. The Jedi Master must have gone truly mad—into the realm of darkness—for him to pollute the land so."

"This…is…horrible," Eve murmured shakily. "I can feel it gnawing at me from within. Angela, how are you going to beat this thing? It feels so strong! By the trees, I can't even move."

"Don't succumb," the Jedi said sternly. "Evil feeds on fear. Hide it, ignore it, do whatever you have to—but don't ever give in to it."

The girl nodded, shivering but trying desperately to stop. With great effort, she put one foot in front of the other, and then did it again. And again. And again. Each step took her closer to the pillar of rock, where she could see an elaborate indentation in its surface—cut to look like a chair.

"It's a throne," she noted. She was still focusing all her being into moving. A flash of robes caught her attention and she turned to look. "Angela," she breathed, "there he is."

Stepping from behind the throne-shaped alcove was a withered husk of a man. Bearded, wrinkled, and gray-skinned, he looked like a desiccated corpse rather than a human. His tattered robes hung about him, stained in filth, grime, and blood. His eyes, once brown and shining, were muddied, bleak, confused.

Eve felt repulsion and wanted nothing more than to flee this terrifying creature's presence. But she held to her heart, told herself that she was the princess of the valley, who had braved the Lower Woodlands again and again. And now she had the Force. She had nothing to fear.

She believed it. The chill subsided a bit and she found it easier to move.

Angela stepped forth, looking the Jedi Master in the eye. "You're the clone I've been looking for," she said simply.

The clone exploded into rage. "Clone? No! I am the true, the original! They spoke lies, lies, lies!" Blue lightning crackled around him, struck earth and stone, sending divots into the air. Eve let out a scream of surprise. The Force, pure and raw, was before her like an unstoppable storm.

"Eve!" Angela cried. "Stay down. Let me handle—" She never got a chance to finish. A bolt of lightning smashed into her chest, sending her flying into the tree line. She hit the trunk hard and crumpled like a rag doll. Eve stood alone against the glowing elemental energies of a dark side master, driven insane by his power.

Terror seized her and she backed away one step at a time. The clone advanced one menacing step for every one she took. Her breath came in hard gasps; his was a series of wretched inhalations that made him look all the more terrible.

Then Eve felt the hard wood of a tree at her back. She had nowhere to run. That was when she saw Angela lying comatose and helpless. Something broke inside her, then. A Jedi is supposed to protect, but how was she supposed to protect anyone if she was afraid?

The answer came to her, an answer so simple she already knew it, but simply did not understand it: Don't fear. Originally, those words were just that—mere words. But now she could feel them reverberate within her. Now, she could let go of her fear. She just had to trust in the Force…and more importantly, in herself.

"I," she started haltingly. She licked her lips and tried again. "I won't let you hurt my friend, and I definitely won't let you hurt me!"

Help me! she thought wildly, sending her call to the life around her. She was no powerful Jedi Knight and she had no lightsaber to fight with. Even the sword of her ancestors, still hanging at her side, was useless in a battle like this. But she was not helpless. Fear could make her forget that, could make her as helpless as a newborn babe. But she was not afraid anymore. Her weapons were all around her, she knew now.

"Help me!" she cried aloud. The clone sent a storm of lightning her way. "HELP ME!"

The lightning exploded around her, scorching hot, searing hot, blinding hot…but not one bolt touched her. She looked around in wonder and confusion. Then she smiled widely. Tree branches surrounded her. The wood had come to her aid, just like she wanted. "Thank you," she whispered gratefully.

Her fingers caressed the burned bark tenderly. "I knew you would help me. You may be under his influence, but I'm your friend. I've walked among you as one of you. Now please, do one more thing for me—hold him down."

Suddenly, the roots of the trees erupted from beneath the broken land around the pillar, surging with a life of their own. They wrapped around the clone like giant serpents. He raged madly, lightning streaking across the sky, but harming nothing. He was rendered impotent, useless, defenseless by the very forest he had corrupted.

Eve stood before his hapless visage, safe and protected by the woods. "Please, just surrender," she pleaded gently. "I don't want to hurt you. I want to help you. Please, don't make us kill you."

Like a caged animal, the clone lashed out, but his powers dimmed to nothing, clutched as he was beneath the forest. Slowly, surely, he calmed as he expended her fear and his anger. He became as docile as a lamb, mewling in fright and sorrow. Eve commanded the roots to release him and cradled the withered man's head in her arms.

"It will be all right," she murmured soothingly, as if talking to a terrified animal. "Just relax. We're going to help you. We're Jedi—we'll help you."

She heard Angela groan and stand, but she kept on consoling the clone. "I saw the whole thing," Angela said softly behind her. "I was just going to kill him and be done with it," she admitted shamefacedly, "but looks like you have everything well in hand." A smirk crept across her features. "You might be a better Jedi than me, Eve."

The girl blushed at the praise. "You flatter me, Angela. But all I did was do what I usually do."

"Then you already have the makings of a great Jedi Knight," Angela replied sincerely.

"I'm sorry, so very sorry," the clone whimpered suddenly. "Please, I just want to be left alone."

Eve smiled warmly in understanding. She released her tender hold and stood away. "We'll tell everyone to stay away from here, all right? We don't want to bother you. But promise me that you won't corrupt this forest anymore. We love this land of ours. We want to see it green and safe and welcoming again."

The clone nodded, his murky eyes clear and cognizant—probably for the first time in decades. When she spoke, it was with the sincerity of a Jedi Master, "I will, you have my solemn word."

The girl's bright smile grew brighter. Already, she could feel the dark pall abate from the grim forest around her. "Do you mind if I visited you once in a while?" she asked innocently. "Angela will be leaving eventually, but I would still like to learn the ways of the Jedi."

"I…I think I would appreciate the company," the clone replied quietly. "I will try to be a good teacher, if that is what you wish."

"Teacher or simply a friend," Eve returned. "Either way, I'll be sure to visit."

The clone smiled. "I would like that very much."


	8. Valley of the Force, Ch 8

**Chapter Eight: Lessons Learned**

"It seems that I can leave you in goods hands when I depart," Angela said to Eve as they walked back through the Lower Woodlands. Already they could feel the oppressive evil peel away from the forest. The blanket of darkness would always leave some mark—it was the way of the Force to leave reminders of the past to future generations—but at least the villagers could walk under the canopy without fear. They even passed a predator cat that meekly stalked away from them, acting much like any other beast would when near humans.

Eve smiled with such innocence that she veritably glowed. "I knew you would want to leave and return to your own people as soon as you could. But I really do want to learn more about the Force. This way, I'll still have a teacher and better yet—a new friend."

Angela squeezed her shoulder. "Don't lose that open heart of yours, Eve," she said sincerely. "There are so few who can juggle responsibility with a kind heart. Even Jedi, who embody that balance, struggle with it every day. You'll make a fine Jedi Knight."

"I hope so. I want to protect my family."

Angela gestured to the woods. "You already have."

Their cheerful banter continued throughout their return trek. It resonated with the growing sense of peace that permeated the Lower Woodlands. To Angela's trained Jedi senses, the effect was intoxicating; it was probably even more so to the young girl beside her. The Force glowed, pure and clean, all around them. Truly, she could relate to the old Jedi adage: the Force surrounded them, bound them, penetrated them. The evidence was all around them.

And then they felt it—the coldness of danger and death, the heat of fear and terror. Even Eve, with her limited training, reacted to it.

"Something's very wrong," she whispered.

Angela drew her lightsaber, ready to ignite it at a moment's notice. "Come on, we're about ten minutes away from the village. Stay close—this feels like another Force-user."

"But who could—" Eve began, but then stopped. Comprehension dawned on her, and Angela was only an instant behind her.

"Atropos," they said in unison. When they ran, they were like the wind.

* * *

When they reached the outskirts of the village, they beheld the carnage a dark Jedi could work.Flames consumed huts and barns, scorched down whole fields of grain, and the screams of the frightened and dying echoed in the valley. Eve fell to her knees and wept, completely overwhelmed at the sight. Angela could only look away, shamed that her inattention, her underestimation of Atropos led to this wanton destruction. 

"We have to find him," the young Jedi said in a hard voice. "Come on, Eve. You must be strong. You must help me protect your people." The girl nodded, wiped her eyes, and steeled her heart. It was time to do battle once more.

They passed by the ruins of homes, the corpses of neighbors and friends, the shattered remnants of a peaceful, pastoral community. And in the center of that carnage was the dark Jedi, Atropos. He slashed wildly with his lightsaber, its red blade tearing through the air with a scream. His opponent was King Jeb, a veteran of many battles himself and no stranger to melee fighting.

The old king dodged and ducked, relying on experience and defensive strategies to stay out of reach of his wilier, younger, healthier foe. In his hand was a sword hilt, the blade having been shorn off by Atropos' lightsaber. But the king did not look disadvantaged in the least. Rather, it looked like he and the dark Jedi were at a stalemate.

Eve looked on her father with a mixture of pride and worry. Pride because he was holding so well against one trained in the Jedi arts, worry because he was still fighting one trained in the Jedi arts. She grasped Angela's sleeve, her eyes begging. "We have to help him!"

"We're going to," Angela answered grimly. "Do what you can to slow Atropos down. I'll take him head-on."

The young Jedi leaped into the fray, igniting her green blade with a snap and a hiss. Her weapon crossed with Atropos', sending sparks and lightning into the air. It smelled of ozone. Bales of spilled grain crunched beneath their feet.

"You're going to pay for all the people you killed today," she growled at the Twi'lek.

Atropos flashed his yellowed fangs at her. "Make me," he countered, forcing her blade away and coming in hard. Angela moved furiously, struggling to parry each of his lightning-fast cuts. His speed was incredible, far greater than it had been before.

Angela realized, with growing dread, that the dark Jedi had fully embraced the dark side, was using it to fuel his body beyond the norm. She knew that such techniques ultimately destroyed the flesh, but if all Atropos had to do was sacrifice his body for victory, she knew he would do it in a heartbeat. Indeed, he was doing it now.

His red blade spun in a flat circle against his body, coming out at an angle to slice her leading leg. She reflexively brought her weapon to block—but it was a feint. He turned the direction of his swing, moving it up higher and scoring a burning hit on the shoulder of her sword-arm. Angela recoiled, gasping at the pain. Fortunately, it was only a gazing injury, so it did not do any irreparable damage. Unfortunately, the shock of the blow rendered her sword-arm numb and near-useless.

Atropos resumed his deadly barrage, raining blows upon her like a hailstorm. With only one hand available to her, turning those vicious strikes away took far more effort and skill—effort and skill she did not have. Every deflected strike wore away at her, weakened her, drained her. She was at his mercy, she knew, and she had no defenses left.

That was when he kicked her, splaying her nose against her cheek, and sending her reeling. She felt pressure around her throat, an invisible hand of telekinetic energy slowly crushing the life from her. Angela gurgled, unable to break free. Atropos howled with victorious laughter, his fingers closing into a fist.

Then Eve entered the battle. The girl would not stand to see her friend killed by the murderer of her people. "Let her go!" she demanded courageously, swallowing her fear. Her hands came up like a conductor directing an orchestra. All around her, the spilled grains rose up, germinating and surging forth. Tendrils of golden wire burst from the seeds, wrapping around Atropos' arms and legs, circled his torso and throat.

The dark Jedi panicked at the unexpected assault, his lightsaber blade shearing whole lines of wheat, but to no avail. They continued to surround him. He cursed, he howled, he threatened. But in the end, he died as the plants suffocated him.

Eve sat down, drained by the powerful energies she expended, and further exhausted by the life she had taken. Never before had she killed another sentient being. Her heart felt heavy, tired in ways that the body could never be. She wanted to cry, but found her eyes dry, unable to shed for a man who had butchered her people.

Angela rested a kindly hand upon the girl's shoulder. Killing was never easy—Jedi knew this, because reverence of life was what defined a Jedi—but it had to be far more painful for someone as innocent as Eve. There were no consoling words she could utter, no words of wisdom. It was strangely ironic that the Jedi's accumulated lore and knowledge had no lessons to impart about coping with the act of killing. "I'm sorry," was all she could say.

"Do not grieve for your lost innocence long, my daughter," King Jeb said, coming up behind them. Eve looked up, her eyes shadowed, haunted. She could still hear the dark Jedi's cries as the plants suffocated him. King Jeb tilted her head up, looked into her eyes. "A ruler must make hard decisions for the betterment of all, my daughter," he said softly. Eve heard the pain of personal experience behind his words. "What you did today was kill—but also, you saved us all. Be proud of that fact."

He turned to Angela, sizing her up, arresting her with his wise gaze. "I misjudged you, Jedi. You tried to help us and were it not for the lessons you gave my daughter, that villainous creature would still be destroying us one at a time." He turned toward the Lower Woodlands, studied them with the expertise of a man who knew his lands. "I see, also, the good you have brought to the hell that that forest had become. Already it looks greener, like it did in the old days. You have brought us many boons, Jedi."

His gaze grew stern. "But you also brought upon us the dark Jedi, your prisoner. You left her here and he escaped. The lives of my people rest on your shoulders."

Eve tried to defend her friend, but Angela would have none of it. She touched Eve on the shoulder, quieting her protests. The young Jedi squared her shoulders and replied, "Good King Jeb, I accept responsibility for my actions. I made a mistake, this I admit. I'm sorry for the trouble and hardship I have caused. I never meant for anything like this to happen. Your people are more deserving than that."

The king nodded. "I am grateful to you for the good you have done, Jedi. Understand that. But understand also, that I cannot let you remain among us. Before the dark Jedi attacked, we finished repairing your ship. We assume it is worthy of flying among the stars once more."

Angela bowed respectfully, accepting his judgement. "Thank you for your kindness and hospitality, King Jeb."

* * *

"I'm sorry about all this," Eve said sorrowfully as she watched her friend board the battered X-wing.

Angela shook her head. "It's all right," she replied. "I would have had to leave anyway. But I'm not worried—you're a good girl, kind and strong, and you have that Jedi Master to teach you the ways of the Force."

"I'll miss you," the girl said earnestly. She gestured to the villagers around her—Banna, Patra, Elda, King Jeb—all watched the departing Jedi with sadness in their eyes. "We'll all miss you," Eve said.

"And I'll miss all of you," Angela replied sincerely. She unhooked her lightsaber and tossed it to the girl, who handled it gingerly with surprise and awe. "Keep that. I can make one of my own. If you're going to be a Jedi, you'll need one, too."

Impulsively, Eve wrapped her arms around Angela's neck and kissed her on the cheek. "Take care of yourself," she murmured, finally letting go. The Jedi Knight smiled and walked sealed the cockpit.

The villagers watched as the mysterious woman in black garb sail into the stars, vanishing in a trail of hyperspace.

* * *

Angela leaned back into the seat of her X-wing, getting comfortable. It would be a long flight back to the nearest port of civilization. She prayed that the hyperdrive remained stable long enough.

She studied the holocron in her hand, taken from the Metal Graveyard. So much knowledge, so much lore, but the most important lessons she learned were taught by real life and by meeting new people. She learned new things among those villagers. She was reminded of what it meant to be a Jedi by a girl who was not even one.

Angela smiled and tucked the holocron into a belt pouch. Lessons and memories filled that crystal cube, but not because a Jedi Master encoded them. No, the holocron was more valuable to her because of the people she met in finding it. She would forever remember a young girl and her kind village and the lessons they taught her.

She settled further into her chair. The first thing she would do when she got back to civilized space, she decided, would be to visit her parents, both living and dead.

**The End**


End file.
